We're here to help
by Shadow of Ketterdam
Summary: The day after detention couldn't be more interesting. John runs into a little trouble, and the rest of the Club tries to help him out. Will he accept them into his life? Or will he push them away like everyone else. This is also co-authored between myself, and the lovely HMG2000 who writes the poems used in this work. (Sequel out now!)
1. Chapter 1

"John! Where the fuck is my beer?" John Bender's father shouted, his voice like thunder through the house. "Answer me you son of a bitch!"

John winced, a small amount of his pot falling onto his mattress. "Shit..." He placed the bag of marijuana under his mattress. "Go to hell dad!" He yelled, hoping that his dad would pass out before he reached his room. He looked over his room, thinking about seeing if he could run for it. But where would he go? He didn't have many friends, and those he did have, were either in jail, high, or drunk at the moment. He looked down at his chest, taking in the pale scarring on the bare skin visible through the front of his flannel. Quickly he abandoned the red flannel for his long-sleeved t-shirt, pulling that over his head and placing the flannel over it. Just as he grabbed his denim jacket, the doorknob jiggled, and the door flew open. His father stood in the doorway, a beer in one hand, and a length of chain in the other.

"You little shit." His dad slurred, making the chain rattle like he always did. "Where's my Goddamn beer?"

Bender swallowed the fear in his throat, keeping his eyes on that chain. He knew what that thing would do if he didn't cooperate, and he didn't want to feel it again. "It, it's in my closet." He stated, pointing to the door.

His father gave a cruel smile, stepping toward the boy. "What did I tell you about taking my stuff?" He asked, twisting the chain around his hand.

Bender bowed his head in submission, making the leather gloves he wore squeak as he clenched his fists. "Not to do it, Sir."

"And what happens when we don't do what we're told?"

Bender didn't answer, instead, he closed his eyes, waiting for the blow to come.

And boy, oh boy, did it come. His dad gave him a hard crack across the nose, a sickening crunch sounding as blood began to pour down his face and neck.

John gasped for air, as blood flowed into his mouth. He didn't have time to react before his old man had him on the floor, a heavy boot pressed between his shoulder blades. "You think you can just take whatever you want?" He grabbed Bender's hair, pulling his head back as far as it would go. "Huh?" He slammed his son's head into the wood flooring, removing his foot from his back. "You think you're so smart?" He delivered a hard kick to the kid's side, cracking several of his ribs. Bender screamed, until his father wrapped the chain around his neck cutting off his airway. He choked, clawing at the metal around his neck, until his vision started to fade, going dark at the edges. "Sorry..." He croaked before his sight left him and he was left in the dark.

His father barked a laugh, unwrapping the chain. "Oh, now what's this?" He bent down, flicking John's shaggy, bloody hair from his ear, revealing the diamond earring. "Well, he's been holding out on me now hasn't he?" He unclasped the back and pulled the jewel from his ear. "This'll make a pretty penny now won't it?"


	2. Chapter 2

Claire smiled, thinking about her kiss with John, as she rode home from the evening church service with Andy and Brian. "Wonder why he didn't want to come?" She whispered looking out over the park that they'd decided to cut through on the way to Brian's house.

"Who?" Brian piped up from the backseat of Andy's bronco.

"Bender." Andy sufficed, cracking a smile. "She's still got that criminal on her mind."

Claire wheeled on him, giving a light punch to his shoulder. "He's not a criminal." She laughed, returning to looking out the window. "Pull over." She ordered, pointing to something on one of the park benches. "Is that him?"

Andy and Brian followed her line of sight, to the figure who was shivering in a denim jacket and ripped jeans. "I think it is." Brian unbuckled his seatbelt, slipping out of the bronco, followed closely by Claire and Andy.

If the person on the bench was John Bender, he didn't show any reaction to the truck doors slamming closed. He simply sat there, clutching his chest and attempting to stay somewhat warm in the light snow.

"Hey, Bender?" Andy raised his voice slightly, hoping they wouldn't be startling a drunk or high Bender who may or may not have a switchblade on his person.

The figure flinched, moving his head so that he could peer at them through his shaggy hair. Brian caught a glimpse of the streak of gray in his hair. "Yeah that's him."

"John?" Claire stepped closer, reaching a hand out. He was obviously on edge from something and she didn't want to be in the way when his temper took over. "John, can you answer me?" She laid a hand on his shoulder, jerking away at his reaction.

"Off!" His voice sounded like stone grinding against stone as he swung his arm in a wide arch, curling in on himself and grunting in pain.

"Bender?" Andy pulled Claire behind him. "Bender, what happened?" He inched closer, Claire close on his heels.

"John, please tell us." She reached out, cupping his cheek in her palm and tilting his face toward the dim street lamp.

A collective gasp went through the three, as they laid eyes on the beaten battered shell that was John Bender. "What the..." Brian looked between John and Andy then to Claire. Sure, they'd all seen the scar from the cigar burn, but they never thought it could be this bad. "What happened man?"

A sad excuse of a laugh escaped their friend, making him wince as his bruised face contorted. "Stole the old man's beer." He tilted his head away from Claire's hand, revealing the bruises around his neck.

"Oh my..." Claire's fingers brushed over his skin. "John..." Tears choked out her words.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?" Andy asked, placing a hand on Claire's shaking shoulders.

Bender shrugged, wincing as it pulled at his broken ribs. "You're looking at it." He wrapped his hands tighter around his chest, taking a few shallow breaths as he shivered against the cold.

The three teens looked between themselves, casting worried glances toward Bender.

"We can't just leave him here." Claire was the first to speak.

"Yeah but where would we take him?" Andy pointed out. "My Dad will kill me if I bring him home. He smells like pot and beer, Dad would kick me out and I'd end up in the same spot as him."

Brian thought for a moment, dragging his shoe in the snow. "My folks would kill me too."

"I can hear you." Bender croaked, pushing himself off of the bench with a hand braced on the back boards. "Listen, I'm fine on my own." He took a few wavering steps down the trail, before collapsing onto his knees.

"John, you're staying at my house." Claire knelt next to him, pushing her hand into his hair, feeling something wet and sticky in the locks. "And you can stay there for as long as you need." She brushed a kiss to his forehead, and pulled his hands up as she stood. "Come on." She smiled, watching as he bowed his head. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head, pulling his hands from her manicured fingers. "I can't."

She looked to Andy and Brian, confusion written on her features. "Why can't you?" She knelt down again, tucking his shaggy hair behind his ears.

He was silent, dropping his gaze to his hands. "I just can't."

Andy stepped forward, taking Bender's arm and looping it over his shoulders. "You're coming with us." He began to pull his friend from the ground, when he cried out in pain. "What the…?" Andy let him back down, watching as he cradled his side. "Bender, what happened?" He knelt down, taking the hem of Bender's shirts and lifting them up slightly before Bender slapped his hands away.

"Don't." He rasped, pushing Andy back. "Just don't."

Brian stepped forward, offering a hand to the situation. "Andy and I are almost the same height, if we both take an arm, we could probably help him to the truck and get him over to Claire's house."

"Yeah, yeah, that might work." Andy turned back to their friend. "Is that okay with you?"

A slow nod was all they got from him, but that was enough to set the process in motion.

Andy took Bender's arm again, this time waiting for Brian to take the other before he started lifting. "Ok, on three." He braced a hand on Bender's back, being careful of the broken ribs. "One… two… three!" They lifted their friend to his feet, as he groaned from the pain.

"Careful." Claire took in the look on John's face. The pure agony written on his features. "Do you need a minute?" She asked, stepping closer.

He shook his head, taking a shaky step toward Andy's bronco with the help of his friends supporting most of his weight.

"Claire, can you get the topper and tailgate? I think it's best if we can get him to lay down." Andy asked, stopping at the back of the vehicle.

"I don't need to lay down." John growled, shooting a glare out from under a curtain of shaggy hair. "I'm fine." He winced as Andy shifted, bumping into his injured side.

"Sorry." Andy stepped toward the open tailgate, turning Bender around so they could get him into the high-riding vehicle. "You think you can jump a little?" He asked, watching the burner's face for a reaction.

Bender didn't move for a moment, mulling over if he really could, or if he should take the blow to his pride and have them lift him into the back. "No." He finally stated, his head hanging even lower than it had been.

Andy nodded, looking over to Brian and Claire. "Claire, you hop in the back and hold his shoulders. Brain, help me lift his legs up."

The two nodded, as Claire jumped into the back and took hold under John's arms. "Ready?" She asked, her hands wrapping around his slim chest.

"Yep." The boys grunted, their arms braced under Bender's legs and rear.

"Whoa, watch it Sporto." John smirked as Andy reached under his ass. "I know you like boys, but I'm not for that shit."

Andy shot him a look. "On three." He mouthed something to Brian before he began the count. "Three!" They lifted him off the ground, surprised by exactly how light the burner was. "Holy shit!" Andy exclaimed as they loaded him onto the tailgate. "Do you ever eat?"

John didn't answer for a long while, he just laid against Claire's lap struggling to catch his breath. "Sometimes." He gasped, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain. "What happened to one and two?"

Claire brushed her hand against his cheek, wiping a silvery tear from his face. "When was the last time you ate?" She asked, tracing one of the bruises around his eyes.

He pressed a hand to his stomach, attempting to muffle the growl of hunger. "Three days."


	3. Chapter 3-4

**Chapter Three**

"Three days?" Andy's eyes were about to pop out of his head. He couldn't imagine not eating lunch, let alone not eating for three days. "You haven't eaten for _three days?_ "

Bender shot him a glare. "Are we gonna go somewhere, or am I just gonna have to freeze my ass off?" He lifted his head from Claire's lap, wincing from the pain.

Brian nodded, rubbing his hands together. "It is pretty cold out here." Even he was shivering in his thick winter coat, he couldn't imagine how cold Bender was.

"Alright, let's go." Andy motioned to Claire. "You wanna ride up front?"

Claire looked down at the bruised, battered boy on her lap. He looked so different from the asshole she'd met yesterday. He was so much smaller than the giant he'd been yesterday. Instead of a fighting rottweiler he seemed like a scared puppy who was still wet behind the ears. "I'll stay back here." She watched as the ghost of a smile touched John's lips. "Make sure he doesn't get into trouble." She smiled, as a rough, grating breath that passed for a laugh escaped him.

The boys nodded, as Andy closed the tailgate and topper.

She watched the boy in her lap struggle against the pain of his injuries. Seeing how he attempted to not wince with every shallow breath he took. "Is it bad?" She asked, as the truck roared to life. "The pain?"

He opened one swollen eye, meeting her gaze. "This? Nah." He shivered again, his breath hitching. "It's been worse." He just managed the sentence before a coughing fit over took him.

Claire held his shoulders down, hoping that would keep his broken ribs from puncturing a lung. She watched as tears came to his eyes, sliding down either side of his face, and attempted to calm him by running the fingers of her free hand through his tangled hair. She pulled apart the locks, realizing that his hair wasn't just tangled but it was soaked with his blood, the dried fluid flaking off on her fingers staining them dark red.

"Ugh..." He struggled to catch his breath, his chest spasming with every shaky breath. "Fuck..."

Claire gently wiped his face, drying his tears. "It's okay." She whispered, pressing a kiss to his head and running her fingers through his hair again, the gray streak catching her eye. "Why is this piece gray?" She asked, tugging on the bit of hair.

He slowly adjusted himself, tucking his head closer to her warm body. "Don't know, just woke up one day and it was there." He wrapped his hands in his jacket, the denim offering a thin layer of protection from the cold.

She looked around the bed of the truck, her eyes landing on an old blanket. "Here." She grabbed the old thing, wrapping it around him. "Better?"

He turned his face toward her coat, burying himself in the thick fabric. "Yeah." His voice was barely audible, through the wool. How he managed to ignore the itch on his face she had no idea.

She brushed his hair back from his ear, and for the first time, noticed that the earring she'd given him was gone. "What happened to the earring?" She asked, touching the cuff he wore above his piercing.

He swatted her hand away, burying himself deeper into the coat and blanket. "Nothing."

"You...you didn't sell it did you?" She could just see him, pawning it off for more dope or something else to get high on.

His head snapped up, pure fire in those dark eyes. "You really think that I'm that stupid?" He snapped, the brown of his eyes turning black as night. "You think that I would sell something like that so that I could get high or drunk?"

She ducked her head, ashamed of what she'd said. "Well… it's just…"

He pushed himself up on his elbows, jarring his ribs. "Just what?" He turned on her, wincing at the pain it caused him. "I'm just a burner who only cares about weed and sex, huh?"

"John, lay down." She reached toward him, grabbing a handful of denim.

"Get off me bitch!" He twisted out of her grasp, lifting a hand as if to hit her, but stopped as soon as he did. He stared at his hand in horror, his mouth falling open as he shrunk away from her.

She inched closer, reaching her hand out to him. "John..." She laid a hand on his knee, feeling how he flinched at her touch. "John, look at me."

He didn't move, he just sat there, staring at his hands as if they were something completely foreign to his body.

"John?"

He turned his horrified gaze to her, his eyes searching her as if he'd never seen her before.

"You need to lay down again." She smiled, hoping to ease his mind.

He swallowed. "I… I hurt you..." His voice was barely a whisper.

She shook her head, taking his hand in hers and bringing it to her cheek. "No. You stopped yourself." She removed his hand, showing the flawless skin there. "See? No red marks." She traced over the worn out leather knuckle gloves, wondering why he always wore them. "I'm okay." She smiled as he seemed to finally start to relax, his hand curling around her own. His head bent forward, resting on her shoulder his hair tickling her neck. She felt him shift, his lips brushing against her collar bone, she could feel the little bit of scruff on his chin scratching against her skin. "John?" That's when she felt him start shaking, his breath hitching. "Hey..." She wrapped her slim arms around him, holding his shoulders as he cried. "It's okay. I'm okay."

The truck slowed, stopping in front of Claire's home. Andy knocked on the topper, causing Bender to jump back, his tough-guy wall falling back into place in a matter of seconds. It was then that Claire realized that it really was an act, a way of protecting himself from whatever wanted to get inside.

Andy dropped the tailgate, nodding to Bender. "You need a hand?"

Bender crawled toward the tailgate, attempting to not show his discomfort. "I'm fine." He growled, stretching his legs to meet the pavement below.

Andy reached forward to lend a hand, but jumped back when the burner formed a fist and faked toward him.

"Back off Sporto." He snapped, standing as tall as his ribs would allow in attempt to make himself bigger. It was an old tactic he'd learned as a child when he was watching an animal documentary in biology. He'd seen how the animals would make themselves bigger to fend off a predator. It hadn't worked for the first few years, but eventually he'd grown enough that he could scare off the smaller gangsters even when he was hurt. "I don't need any help."

Brian cast a glance from Andy and Bender then up to Claire who was hopping out of the truck. "Are your parents home?" He asked the redhead.

"No." She shrugged, keeping a steady pace with Bender as they limped over her lawn. "Dad has a business retreat in New York for the next week and my Mom went to her mother's for some 'recoup time.'"

A harsh cough escaped Bender, followed by a groan of agony. "Fuck..." He shivered against the chill of the night, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "I hate winter."

Claire pulled out her keys, unlocked the door, and waited for the three boys to walk inside. "It's not even winter anymore, it's March."

Bender shrugged, gingerly sitting himself in a plush chair that had to be made for giants. "If it snows, it's winter."

Andy turned to Claire, eyeing the too thin boy in the huge chair. "Hey, where's your kitchen?" He asked, hoping he could find something chalked full of carbs and protein for their friend.

She nodded, pointing toward the huge dining room. "It's through there and to the left."

He nodded, casting a glance at the burner who was half-asleep in his seat.

Bender fought the tremors that ran through his body, his head hurt like hell, he was pretty sure that he was hearing bells, and he just couldn't get warm. He'd chosen the seat closest to the electric fireplace, but he still felt like an ice cicle in a meat locker with a huge hunk of dry ice on top of him. He felt something touch his arm, jerking him out of his half-asleep. He lashed out before he could think, taking a wild swing hoping to escape the harsh smack that was bound to follow.

"Damnit." Andy looked down at the ham sandwich that was now on the floor in pieces of deli ham, whole grain bread, and about six slices of cheese. "Note to self, don't startle a sleeping Bender." Really he was just happy that he didn't have his switchblade.

Bender glared at him, his bruised features looked more comical than scary. "What the fuck you think you're doing?"

Brian stepped forward, picking up the pieces of sandwich. "He was giving you some food… he, uh, he made you a sandwich."

"I don't need it." He leaned back in the chair again, his head resting against the overstuffed cushion supporting his back.

That was when Claire noticed the gash running across his hairline toward his temple. "John..." She stepped toward him running her fingers over the cut. "Did… did you hit your head?"

He cracked an eye open, and she noticed that it looked slightly glazed over. "I don't remember." He opened the other eye, and she noticed that there were little flecks of green in his eyes. "Maybe."

She turned to Brian. "Can you get a flashlight from the garage? It's down the hall and through the laundry room."

He nodded, tossing the ruined sandwich into the garbage on his way out.

She motioned to Andy. "Can you get me a wet washcloth from the bathroom?" She pointed to the hallway again. "It's the first door to the right."

Another shiver shot through John, eliciting a whimper of discomfort from the school criminal. She pressed a hand to his head, feeling the unusually warm skin there. "Maybe get two."

Andy nodded, making his way to the bathroom as Brian reappeared with a flashlight.

"Here ya go." He handed the black stick to her, taking a seat on the automan next to Bender's feet. "Are you still cold?" He tugged on a thread on his sleeve.

Bender allowed Claire to move his head, and shine the light into his eyes. "No."

She turned the light off, holding up a finger. "Follow my finger with only your eyes." She moved her hand, watching his dark eyes struggle to keep track of her movement. "He's lying." She made another line in the air watching as his eyes didn't quite follow. "He's got a fever."

Andy jogged back into the sitting room, two soaked washcloths in his hands. "Here." He handed them to Claire, wiping the water on his nice church pants.

She gave a sweet smile, gently wiping the dried blood from his head, face, and neck. "God you're a mess." She dragged the cloth over his upper lip, ridding it of the caked on blood.

A tired smirk crossed his lips, as she moved to his chin. "Oh you love it." His voice grated like steel and stone, and he winced as she started cleaning up his neck.

She rolled her eyes, fighting the urge to press just a little harder on those bruises. But she couldn't do that. He'd been through enough already, and she couldn't bring herself to hurt him anymore. "You've got a concussion." She pulled at the bloody neckline of his white shirt, wincing as the dried blood pulled on the skin attached to his shirt. "So you can't sleep tonight." She placed the second washcloth over his forehead, hoping to get some of his fever to go down.

"Oh damn." He shivered again, placing a hand over his side. "I guess we'll have to find another way to fill the time then."

Andy rolled his eyes, taking the bloody cloth from her hands. "Even when you're half dead, you still find a way to be an asshole."

Brian muffled a chuckle, watching as the two glared at each other.

"Guys." Claire warned. "None of that." She grabbed a thick blanket from a basket beside the fireplace, draping it over the skinny kid in the chair.

"Yeah Sporto." Bender ran his fingers over the blanket as if he'd never felt anything so soft. "I'm totally in the mood for a good fight, but I don't think Cherry over here would let me."

Andy shook his head, offering his hand as a truce. "I'll let you off this time." He grasped Bender's hand in a firm handshake. "But only because you're on death's door."

John gave a low chuckle, his eyelids starting to grow heavy. "Only if the old man gets ahold of me."

The room was suddenly quiet, as if an elephant had taken a shit in the middle of the house and everyone was holding their breath.

Finally, Claire rested a hand on his knee. "Is it like this all the time?" She asked, almost fearfully.

He took in the look on their faces, each one was acting as though he was a puppy on his way to the gas chamber. "Look, I don't want pity." He shot them all his best death glare. "I don't even know why I told you what my life is like. Okay? I regretted it the moment I told you." His boots thudded on the hardwood flooring, as he pushed himself up and stumbled toward the door. "Just forget I ever said anything." The sentence had barely left his mouth, before he collapsed on the floor.

 **Chapter Four**

Bender woke, surrounded by warmth, it almost felt like he was laying on a cloud. Then the pain hit, a jabbing throb in his side, the ache in his head, everything hurt. He let a small sound escape him, surprised when he heard something move to his left.

"John?" It was Claire, her voice soft and comforting. She laid a hand on his head, her fingers cold against his skin. "God, you're burning up!"

He slowly opened his eyes, attempting to focus on the girl before him. "Where am I?" He croaked. His mouth felt like sand, he was so thirsty.

She handed him a glass of water, helping him lift his head to drink. "In my room. You passed out a few hours ago." She pulled the water away from him, afraid he would make himself sick. "Are you in much pain?" She asked as he winced when she let his head rest against the feather pillows.

He shook his head, as he closed his eyes against the dim light of her bedside lamp. "Yes." He admitted, taking a huge blow to his pride.

She turned, disappearing through her door, and returning a moment later with a bottle of pills. "These are leftovers from when my Mom had surgery on her back, I think they'll help." She shook a one out into her palm, grabbing the half-full glass of water from the nightstand. "Here." She dropped the pill into his mouth and handed him the water to help him swallow.

He gulped it down, like he was living in a drought. "How did I get here?" He asked, gingerly pushing himself higher up on the pillows. "And where's Johnson and Sporto?"

Claire took a seat on the edge on the bed, tucking her hair behind one perfect ear. "They carried you up here, then Andy had to take Brian home." She rubbed her eyes, smearing her makeup all the way into her hair. "Plus Andy has another meet tomorrow." She yawned, crawling farther onto the huge bed and laying her head next to Bender's elbow.

He chuckled, glancing at the alarm clock on her nightstand. "Holy shit, it's late." He stated, thinking that Claire might still be awake. All he got was a small snore in reply.

A small grin played over his features as he turned to the sleeping girl beside him. She looked so peaceful in her sleep, her hair splayed across the pillow, her face like an angels, a delicate hand tucked under her chin. She looked like a real princess, even with her makeup smudged and running.

He looked around her room, and saw her makeup wipes on her vanity in a little pink plastic container. Bracing himself for the inevitable pain, he pushed himself off the bed, limping over to the white table. He opened the tupperware, pulling out a few moist towelettes before limping back to the bed. He sat next to her, gently wiping the mascara, lipstick, and whatever other paint she wore off of her freckled cheeks. Noticing for the first time, just how beautiful she was. He'd never seen her without makeup on, but now that he had, he never wanted to see her with it again.

Her lips were perfectly shaped, and softer than he could imagine, her cheeks were littered with constellations of perfect little freckles, and her eyelashes were like the finest little fans he'd ever seen.

"Mmm..." A little smile played on her lips, as she snuggled closer to him.

He froze, unsure of what to do. He'd never had a girl so close to him without her body being underneath him. Finally he decided to lay down and let her use his shoulder as a head rest. After all, she was warm and he still felt cold despite his fever.

After a few minutes of listening to her mumble in her sleep, he began to doze off, his breathing began to even out, and a moment later he was in dream land.


	4. Chapter 5-6

**Chapter Five**

Claire flew off the bed, the scream still fresh in her ears. She peeked over the edge of her mattress, looking into the terrorfied face of the boy in her bed. Sweat soaked his hair, salty tear tracks ran down his face, his coffee colored eyes were so wide that it looked as if they would pop right out of his skull.

"John?" He turned to look at her, but he didn't seem to really be seeing her. "John, what happened?" She reached toward him, placing her hand on his, feeling the scarred knuckles from years of fights and attempts to protect himself. "Did I hurt you?"

He blinked, eyes flitting around the room as if he was expecting something to attack him. "No." He relaxed slightly, the shaking in his hand slowing as he leaned back against the pillows.

She crawled back onto the bed, gently rubbing her fingers over his cheek, the stubble on his face causing her fingers to feel funny. "Bad dream?"

He flipped his hair back, the gray streak catching the dim light like silver. "It was nothing." He deflected, his tough-guy shield sliding into place, effectively blocking her out from his private life.

She glanced at the alarm clock, it was almost six in the morning, time for another pain pill. "How you feel?" She asked, not sure if she should keep giving him narcotics or opt for aspirin, to avoid any chance of addiction. She knew that his parents were alcoholics, so addiction ran in his blood. Plus, he already smoked weed, she didn't need him to start popping pills on top of that.

He gave her his classic bad-boy smirk. "How good do I have to feel to-"

"Not happening Bender." She rolled her eyes, catching a look of herself in the mirror. "Oh no!" She hid her face in her hands, covering her unpainted skin. "How… did this happen?"

He watched her for a moment, debating being an asshole, or actually being nice for once. "Figured you wouldn't want to sleep in that shit." He shrugged, remembering how his other flings would breakout after they slept in their makeup. "Get giant zits that ooze puss, get all red, look like some kinda rash." There, he'd found a happy medium.

She glared at him, before realization hit her. "You… you wiped it off?" Her cheeks began to pink, just adding to the adorableness of her Bambi like eyes.

He gave a little nod, flinching and crying out in pain when she launched herself onto him in a bone breaking hug. "Off!" He choked, tears coming to his eyes as his ribs were jarred. "Off."

She sat back on her heels, bowing her head. "Sorry." She brushed her fingers through her hair. "Do you want some aspirin?" She bit her lower lip, hoping that he wouldn't ask for another pain pill.

He nodded, his eyes shut tight against the pain. "Anything." He groaned, holding hir chest protectively.

Now she had an idea how bad his pain was. She hated to do it, but he needed the pills, aspirin wouldn't cut it. John Bender was the toughest kid in school, if he was begging for aspirin, he was in serious pain. She walked around to his side of the bed, opened the prescription bottle and dumped a pill out, handing it to him. "I'll fill up your water." She took the glass, walking down the hallway to the bathroom. She found herself humming a little tune, it wasn't of any song she'd ever heard, in fact, she was pretty much just putting random notes together. She almost didn't hear John's coughing fit in the next room. "John?" She called, shutting off the faucet. "You okay in there?" She started back for her room, a strange feeling settling in her stomach. Something wasn't right. And she was afraid of what it could be. "John?" She turned the corner into her room, the water slipping from her grasp as she was met with the scene before her. "John!"

To be continued...

 **Chapter Six**

His throat burned as red liquid flew from his mouth. He curled onto his good side, attempting to stop the blood from escaping his body. He lungs ached, as they began to fill with blood, his breaths became shorter, each one hurting more than the last. He could hear something crashing and breaking, but he really didn't care anymore. All he wanted was for this to stop.

"John!" Something touched his back, as if trying to stop his coughs. "John!" It was Claire, but she didn't stay at his side long, and he could hear a conversation on the other side of the room.

Seconds later, she was pulling the sheets back, and attempting to get the taller teen out of the bed. "John, John, stay with me." She placed his arm over her shoulder, knees straining under his weight. He may not have been a healthy weight for his size and age, but he was still a lot bigger than a fancy purse. "John!" She attempted to keep him conscious, speaking as loudly as she could into his ear, walking him down the stairs to the door. "You're gonna be okay." Tears stung her eyes, as they limped toward her car. "You… you're gonna be okay."

Another bloody cough rattled his body, splattering red over her pajamas. "Hurts..." He croaked, his vision starting to darken at the edges. "Bad..." His bare feet caught on the pavement next to her car, causing him to stumble.

Claire rushed to catch him, opening the back door to her brand new 1984 toyota supra, and helping him inside. She thanked God that they were close to the hospital.

The car screeched into the parking lot, as Claire threw it into neutral and pulled the parking brake. She threw a glance to the backseat, taking in the bloody boy there. They didn't have much time. If she waited much longer, he would drown from his own blood. She hurried to pull him from the car and get him into the wheelchair one of the nurses had brought out.

Immediately, the nurse began shouting out orders as she rushed him away from Claire.

It was then, and only then, that she let reality crash down on her. Her knees gave out, and she came crashing to the ground, tears streaming down her cheeks, and hiccuping sobs wracking her small body. John might die… and it would be because of her.

 _No._ She told herself. _Because of his dad._ Jacob Bender was the one who would kill him. Not Claire. Not any of the Breakfast Club. It would be him. If John stayed at that house any longer, he may never survive his high school experience.

She took a few shaky breaths, attempting to calm herself before she stood, and found the nearest phone, dialing the number of her father's hotel.

The receptionist answered, and hardly got her 'hello' out before Claire launched into her request. "I need to speak with Thomas Standish." She ordered. "It's an emergency."


	5. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

John woke for the second time in what he thought was two days, in a strange room. He had something in his throat, that felt like it was pumping air into his lungs. He also had what he thought was a nightgown that was open in the back for clothing. He still couldn't quite tell what was going on because every time he tried to think about why all the beeping and other sounds were in the room, his brain seemed to draw a blank. Slowly he opened his eyes, before shutting them tight against the bright lights.

Someone touched his shoulder, a kind touch, so much unlike his parents. "John?" That voice… he knew that voice… but he couldn't attach a name to her. "John, open your eyes." Her voice was thick with emotion, and he felt a drop of something wet hit his hand.

Slowly he cracked his eyes open, squinting up at the fuzzy outline of a redheaded girl before him.

The redhead smiled, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "Good morning sunshine." Her features began to clear, and the face of Claire Standish swam into view.

A knock sounded through the room, and another woman's voice echoed in his ears. "How's he doing?" Asked the blonde, as she scrubbed her hands with hand sanitizer.

Claire smiled so wide he thought her face might actually crack. "He woke up!" She turned back to the boy in the bed, her dark eyes like the deepest pools of emotion he'd ever seen.

The nurse pulled on a pair of gloves, and began touching him. "Hey," She soothed, as he jumped in panic, "it's okay. No one's going to hurt you anymore."

That caused him to turn to Claire, a death glare shining in his eyes.

She seemed to get the message, ducking her head in shame. "I had to tell them..." She whispered, glancing over her shoulder to someone he hadn't noticed before. "Daddy..." She sounded about ready to cry.

The man stood, still in a rumpled business suit and tie. "Mr. Bender, Claire told me about your situation, and I spoke to her mother. We, as a family, have agreed to take care of you until you graduate next year." He sounded so matter of fact, like he wasn't giving John a choice in the matter.

He looked to his daughter, as if letting her finish his one-sided conversation.

"John, they, they took your parents to jail two days ago." She moved closer to him, stopping when he jerked away. "I'm sorry, John..." She looked into his eyes, as if trying to show him she really was. "I was just afraid you'd die there." Tears slid down her rosy cheeks, and he noticed she wasn't wearing makeup. "I didn't want to lose you."

The nurse pressed a stethoscope to his chest, listening to his breathing, a wide smile gracing her lips. "I think we can take the ventilator out." She pulled a small walky-talky from her hip, speaking into the device. "Doctor Reynolds to ICU room 134."

A moment later a man's voice replied. "Be right there."

Hardly five minutes passed and a man with dark hair, a lab coat, and features surprisingly close to Allison's entered the room. "Well, good to see you're awake." He looked to the nurse. "What's happening?" He asked, taking the stethoscope around his neck and listening to John's lungs. The nurse told him what she thought they could do, and he nodded, as if to agree with her. "Mr. Bender, you may want to hold onto your girlfriend's hand." He began undoing the straps that were holding the ventilator onto his face. "This will hurt."

John braced himself for the pain, determined to not take Claire's waiting hand. Needless to say, that didn't work out. The tube burned as it was pulled from his throat, and of course the first word out of his mouth was, "Fuck!"

Claire winced, knowing how her father felt about cursing. "John..."

Her father laid a hand on her shoulder, giving the boy a stern look. "I'll let that slide this time."

John took a few heavy breaths, attempting to calm his racing heart. "Ugh… damn." His voice grated in his raw throat, making him wish he was just a little louder just so he could piss of Claire's old man.

The nurse rested a hand on his shoulder, catching his attention. "How would you rate your pain?"

He glanced at the chart on the wall, which only went to ten. He didn't think any of those would cut it. "Eighty-six." He stated, squeezing Claire's hand as another wave of pain hit him. It was then, that he realized he hadn't let her go, and she hadn't pulled away. _God this girl must be a saint._ He thought, looking into her beautiful inky black eyes. _Staying with the likes of me._

She seemed intent on studying Dr. Reynolds for some reason… then it hit him. This douche bag, was Allison's old man. The one who ignored her every day in and out and made her feel invisible.

John turned his deathly dark eyes on him, ready to crack some heads. "Hey, Doc." He barked, attempting to look tougher than he felt.

He turned to meet his gaze, holding a hand up to the nurse as if pausing their conversation. "Is there something you need, Mr. Bender?"

John ran a quick analysis on the adult before him, judging speed, weight, power, agility. "Why you-" He was cut off by a hand over his mouth, Claire's hand to be exact.

"Shut up." She whispered harshly into his ear. "Don't call out the man who is taking care of you." She looked up at Allison's father, an apologetic look on her face. "I'm sorry, he just likes to be a loud mouth." She shot John a glare, slowly removing her well-manicured hand from his mouth.

He nodded, as if to agree. "Yes Sir… see, I never learned to hold my tongue as a child." He put on his best apology face sliding it into place seamlessly. "And I've always been a little thick in the head for learning my place."

Douche-bag nodded, a thin smile playing on his lips. "That's perfectly fine." He looked to Claire's dad. "He should be able to go home in a few days." He shot a look at John. "Possibly sooner if he behaves."

John waited until he was just outside of his room before holding up his middle finger, and muttering, "fuck you," Under his breath, just as a sharp jab was delivered to the back of his head. "Ow…" He rubbed the spot where Claire had flicked him, turning to look at her furious expression.

"You're truly a pain in the butt." She turned to her dad, her gaze softening. "I'm gonna go get some coffee. You want anything?" She asked, as a yawn escaped her.

"Hey." John piped up, grabbing a handful of her blouse. "I'll take a coffee." He smirked, attempting to look sweet and innocent like a little kid.

She shook her head. "Nice try." She pulled out his chart, flipping to the page about what he could eat. "No hot beverages." Now it was her turn to smirk.

"Royal pain in my ass." He sneered, watching Mr. Standish from the corner on his eye, just to see his reaction to his language.

Claire rolled her eyes. "Did you want anything Daddy?" She asked, Bambi eyes shining in the light.

He shook his head. "You go ahead dear." He turned to John. "I'd like to know what we got ourselves into here."


	6. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Thomas pulled a chair up beside Bender's bed, folding his hands neatly in his lap. "Mr. Bender, Claire tells me that you're a stand-up fellow." He sounded like one of the lawyer snakes that always seemed to think that Bender belonged in the can.

John shot daggers at him, he'd learned long ago that lawyers and judges had a way of twisting the truth to make it worse than what it was. "Depends." God how he wanted a joint right now, or at least a cigarette. "What do you see as a good guy?"

Thomas smiled, it was warm, but there was something in his eyes that wasn't quite right. "Well, are you the one who supplied her with the Marijuana at detention on Saturday?"

There that was John's chance to get out of living at a richies house. "Yes." He stated, a smirk playing on his lips. He would do whatever it took to piss this guy off, he was better off on the streets than in the rich neighborhood. He wouldn't make it there. He was a ticking time bomb. An accident waiting to happen. "I've also been in jail a couple times, and I smoke Marlboro Reds, dope, and have detention for the next two months for running my mouth to Dick."

Thomas nodded, a look of disappointment settling on his features. "I see…" He adjusted his tie, sitting back in his seat. "Well, I can't do much now. I've already promised Clair Bear that we would take you in." He rubbed a hand over his tired eyes, and John wondered if he'd stayed in the hospital with him all this time.

"You richies are all heart." John sneered, collapsing back against the pillows.

Thomas reached out to pat the boy's knee, hoping to show some form of compassion to the bitter kid before him. It didn't quite work out as planned, John jerked back, bumping his head on the bed rails. "I know you're not used to that, but as long as you're with our family, we will help you accomplish your goals and dreams."

"Ain't got any of those." John kept a wary eye on the older man, watching him pick something up from the counter.

Thomas filled the glass of water, turning back to the boy and handing it to him. "Claire says you play guitar?" He settled back into the chair.

"Just air guitar." John shrugged, sipping on the water in his hand. "If I ever had a real one my old man would busted it over my head."

Thomas nodded, his head rising as Claire entered the room with her coffee. "You two behaving in here?" She asked stirring the over creamed beverage.

Her father smiled, kissing her head. "Not at all Claire Bear." He joked. "I've got to head back to the house, your mother needs help setting up the quest room." He gave John a small smile, before starting for the door.

Maybe John could give it one last go… "Heya, Tom." He licked his bottom lip, hoping to add to his statement. "You probably found my clothes in your pristine little girl's room…" He waited for a reaction, which didn't come. He had to take it up a notch. "Well, maybe little Claire Bear isn't so perfect anymore." That statement earned him a flick on the ear from his redheaded girl. "Ah! Shit, Claire, I was just messing around."

She waited until her father was out of earshot before replying. "Why are you like this?" She asked, sitting on the edge of his bed. "My Dad stayed with you for two twenty-four-hour days." Her brows were knit in anger, and to be honest it was kinda getting him hot. "And of course, the first thing you do when you wake up, is try to push him away."

He pulled at the bracelet around his wrist, attempting to avoid her lecture. "Don't take it personally, Princess." He hated being stuck here, and he really wasn't in the mood to get told off by her -or anyone for that matter. "You know who I am. You knew what you were getting into when you kissed me in that closet." He could feel the heat of his temper rising in his chest, like a flame slowly building into a wildfire. "You knew what would happen when you forced me into your house."

Tears pricked Claire's eyes, her throat tightening with emotion. "I didn't force you into anything." She choked out, her hands balling in her blouse pulling it up just above her bellybutton. "But we're friends, and friends help each other out." She wiped the tears from her face, thanking God that she didn't have any makeup on.

He hated himself for what he did next, he wasn't really sure why he did it, but he reached out, wincing as his stitches were pulled with the movement. "Come here." He took one of her hands, her soft skin like velvet against his callouses and scars.

She sat on the edge of his bed again, not meeting his eyes. "I'm just trying to help." She hiccupped, tracing the scarred tissues of his knuckles.

He pulled her closer, his chapped lips pressing to her perfect ones. "I know." He hated this side of himself. He hated that she could pull it out of him. That she had this power over him. How had he let her in. He'd only talked to her for the first time a few days ago… and now, he was as good as telling her that he was sorry for being a complete asshole to her on that Saturday.

She rested her head against his shoulder, her breath hot against his neck. "I just don't want to lose you."

Her tears soaked into his hospital gown, as he wrapped his arm around her. "I know." He really didn't know what else to say.

She curled up closer to him, placing her hand on the little patch of bare skin above the loose neckline of his gown and tracing little circles over the scars. She didn't say anything else, she just stayed there, curled around most of his body. She took comfort in his presents, the way he cradled her in her arm, the warmth of his body against hers, the sound of his raspy breathing, and finally the way that he started to softly snore. The sound of his snores soothed her, her eyelids growing heavy and the time passed, until eventually she nodded into dream land.


	7. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

John carefully stepped out of Thomas Standish's BMW, looking up at the giant house that was his new inhabitance. _Great… I'm a richie now…_ He grimaced at the thought, the bandage around his stitches suddenly becoming uncomfortable. His life hadn't been paradise before, but he'd rather be in the hood with the gangs and sickos, than be stuck in a place where the most exciting thing that ever happened was getting a new purse from a fancy store. John caught sight of a little kid staring at him from across the street, and shot him a look that said 'I'll kill you.' It was a look that he was familiar with. In his neighborhood that was as good as a handshake, and getting a knife pulled on you was like saying 'welcome to the family.' He just hoped that he could find a dealer here.

Thomas opened the door to his home, letting the boy inside. "Welcome home." He smiled, watching John drag his feet into the house.

John was thankful to have his boots on again, they brought him some form of comfort in the world he knew was a living hell -plus they were dirty as hell. "Eat my shorts." He muttered, not noticing the other people in the house.

"Hey!" Andy threw an arm around Bender's shoulders as the rest of the Breakfast Club gathered around him. "Back from the dead!"

Allison gave a little smile, blowing a stray hair from her forehead. She was wearing the white headband that Claire had given her and surprisingly a pink dress that actually fit. "Glad you're okay."

Brian gave him a pat on the back, grinning from ear to ear. "Good to see you."

John shook his head, but the others noticed how he shied away from them, protecting his side. "What're you assholes doing here?" He smirked, keeping a keen eye out for Claire's mother. He had to find a way to really piss her off. That would be his chance outta here. "Shouldn't jail be in session now?"

That earned a hard laugh from all of them, even quiet little Allison.

She walked with him over to the sofa, whispering something to him. "You… you didn't say anything to my Dad, did you?" She asked, as he took a seat next to her.

He took a sidelong glance at her, tilting his head slightly. "Why ya ask?"

"He's actually paying attention to me…" She let Andy take her hand, holding it in a firm grasp.

John shrugged, leaning back into the cushions and kicking his feet up on the table. "Don't know what that's about." But he let a proud smirk play on his lips, to let her know that it was indeed him.

"What are you guys doing?" Claire's voice rang in John's ears, like church bells on a Sunday.

His head snapped toward her, and he saw what she was wearing. A ratty pair of jeans, and a too-big t-shirt with the bad logo of Simple Minds on it. She didn't have a drop of makeup on, and she looked like she'd just woken up, but he knew she hadn't. "Good morning queenie." He tried to push himself up to meet her halfway, but Andrew caught the back of his shirt and held him there. "Is the school a buzz yet? About you and a burner from the slums?"

She squeezed between him and Brian, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Yeah." She gave him a little peck on the cheek. "But I don't care."


	8. Chapter 10

**Chapter ten**

Bender pulled up a chair at the dining room table, keeping a careful eye on the four other people there. He kept his head down, focusing on the plate that Mrs. Standish had placed in front of him. He waited for the others to begin eating, before picking up his fork and diving in. He hadn't eaten a real home-cooked meal since he was six, and spaghetti was his favorite. He cupped an arm around his plate protectively, shoving the food into his mouth at a rate that would make a dog stare in disbelief. That's when he noticed how quiet it was in the room.

Slowly he raised his head, a forkful of noodles hanging from his mouth. Of course he happened to have the luck of meeting the eyes of Clarissa Standish, the look of horror on her face would have been enough to make his dead grandma laugh. "What?" He asked, the noodles falling from his mouth as they were bitten in half.

"Well…" Clarissa started. "We try to keep our elbows off of the table at meal times." She looked to her husband, pointing to the garlic bread. "Pass the bread please?"

Now John was pissed. He hadn't eaten for three days before he'd ended up in the hospital, and she had the guts to tell him how to eat? He caught Claire and her brother -who'd come to welcome him to the family- giving him a look that seemed to be telling him to listen and behave. "So, I take it you get… what? Six meals a day?" He flipped his hair out of his face, staring Clarissa down from across the table. "I'll bet, that you've never gone a single day without at least a bagel to eat." He shot Claire a look as she opened her mouth to say something. "Well let me tell you sister. I have gone weeks without so much as a crumb in my stomach. The only time I get food is when I find something in a garbage can, or manage to steal something off one of the weaker kids at school." He smiled internally at her reaction. "I don't even get to eat a school lunch unless I roll someone on the way to school, and manage to not get my ass beat." He pointed an accusing finger at her, the same way he had to Claire at detention. "So, don't tell me how I can and can't eat my food."

Clarissa dropped her gaze as if she didn't know how to respond. "I'm sorry." She whispered, taking a sip of her wine.

John leaned back in his seat, his lip curling with disgust. Half of him was expecting to get a good beating after dinner, but the other half was crawling up the walls with what he'd said. He pushed away from the table, pushing himself to his feet with a hand on the table. "Of course, you are." He started for the front door, thanking God that he'd noticed a seven-eleven about six blocks from the house.

"Where're you going?" Claire asked, standing from her chair.

"Out." He stated, stalking out of the house. "Don't wait up." He didn't make eye contact with anyone as he shut the door.

He curled his fingers into his palms as a cold gust of air blew into his face. God, he fucking hated it here. How was he supposed to survive in this, with people just saying sorry like it was nothing? He'd grown up having to fight for everything and always expecting a fight back, but here, there was none of that.

He walked down the sidewalk, letting his limp be more noticeable tonight. It wasn't something he would normally let show, but tonight, he just didn't care. Tonight, it was a reminder of what he'd survived. The shouts, the beatings, the breaks, the bruises, the cuts, scrapes, and whippings that he'd endured from his father's chain. Every pain had made him stronger, wiser, tougher, faster, and more likely to win.

He stepped out into the street, without looking as usual, causing a car to slam on their brakes. "Hey! Watch where you're going!" Shouted the driver.

"That's what I'm doing, asshole." He flipped a rude gesture to the driver, stepping onto the sidewalk once more.

He walked the remainder of the six blocks to the gas station, the bell ringing as he opened the door. He waited for a moment for the cashier to show his face, tapping his fingers on the counter.

"What can I get you?" The man asked, looking Bender up and down.

"Pack of Reds." He stated, digging in his pocket for the seventy-two cents that he owned the guy.

The cashier looked him over, as if judging his age. "Got an ID?"

John nodded, pulling out his old beat up wallet, and digging out the fake he always had on him.

He nodded, rung John up and sent him on his way. "Have a good night."

John didn't reply, as he was already lighting the cigarette in his teeth. He took a seat on the bench outside, letting the smoke fill his lungs as the night air slowly numbed his fingers and face.

He smoked almost half a pack before Claire's car rolled up to the station. "Where have you been?" She asked, wrapping her thick parka around her. "We've been looking all over for you."

John took another drag, blowing the smoke out through him nose. "Where you think I've been?" He kicked at a rock, watching it bounce across the driveway.

She snatched the pack of cigarettes from him, looking at the orange butt in his hand. "You're not supposed to be smoking yet!" She tossed the carton into the trash, grabbing a handful of denim in her hand and hauling him to the car. "You're not even one week out of surgery, how can you be so stupid?" She gave him a hard slap on the arm, freezing as soon as she'd done it. "John…" She looked into his eyes, they were void of anything, like he wasn't even there anymore. "John, I am so sorry. I, I didn't mean to…" She couldn't finish her sentence, the horror of what she'd done finally settling around her.


	9. Chapter 11

**Chapter eleven**

The ride back to the Standish house was spent in silence. John just stared out the window, his fingers moving as if playing guitar and Claire could almost pick out what song he was playing. She wondered if he'd ever learned to play, if maybe when he was younger his parents had been sane enough to give him something he enjoyed to do. Despite how much she hoped that was true, she knew that nothing of the sort would have happened in the Bender house. Part of her wanted to know everything about his past, but deep in her heart she was terrified of the truth. After seeing his latest wounds, she could only imagine what he'd endured as a child. He acted tough and like he was untouchable, but deep inside, he was afraid. Afraid of what might happen, afraid of being hurt. Maybe that was why he said he had multiple girlfriends, because he didn't want to be hurt by just one. He kept himself separated from anything that would bring him joy, because he knew if he let that joy in, he would be crushed if it was taken from him.

But for some reason, he let her in.

She turned into the driveway, noticing that her father and brother's cars were already parked. As she put her car in park, she placed a hand on Bender's shoulder, waiting for him to look at her. "Hey," she whispered, "don't mind my Mom, she's just a bitch."

He nodded, keeping his eyes on the window. "She's an angel compared to mine." Finally, he turned to face her, fatigue showing on his features like the bruises around his eyes.

She opened her door, slipping out into the cold night air. "You coming?"

He popped the door, pushing himself from the vehicle and walking over to her side. "Sorry…" He muttered, cautiously taking her hand in his as they started for the door.

"It's okay." She smiled, leaning her head against his shoulder. She noticed that something was slightly off about the way he was walking, a slight limp in his left leg. "Are you okay?" She asked, lifting her head to look at him.

He nodded, masking the limp as best he could in the cold. "Just an old break." He steered her away from the bushes, another old habit from his old home. "It doesn't really bug me anymore."

She turned with him up the steps to the front door and opened it for them. "Are you tired?" She yawned, hoping to get him away from her family before he had another flare up.

He shrugged, fighting the urge to yawn. "I could sleep." He jumped away suddenly, ducking his head as her father entered the living room they were in.

"Ah, you finally found him." He smiled, his voice pleasant just as Bender's father used to be right before he took his anger out on him. "Good to have you back." He reached toward the boy, pausing as he began to shake in fear. It was small, but Thomas had seen it before in the court room, from anyone who'd once been in a relationship like his. "I'm sorry about Clarissa," He sighed, "She's always lived a life of privilege. And you were right about here never going a day without something to eat." He winked, as if trying to make John feel better about his outburst at dinner.

John just gave a short nod, before starting for the staircase. "Goodnight."


	10. Chapter 12

**Chapter twelve**

Claire laid in bed, tired eyes trained on the wall between her room and John's. She could hear little thumps and bumps in the night, they almost sounded like a nightmare, except the sounds would move through the room. She could only imagine what he could be doing in there, and pray that he wasn't destroying the books that her father kept in there like he had with the Moliere in the school library.

After about an hour of listening to him root around in there, she decided she would go check on him. "John?" She knocked on his door, afraid of what she might find in there. "Can I come in?"

She jumped back as the door was jerked open, revealing a half-crazy Bender who happened to be missing his shirt. "Hey." He looked up and down the hallway, wrapped a strong arm around her, and with one smooth motion pulled her into his room. He pressed his lips to hers, pulling her closer to him.

She pushed him back, taken aback at his behavior. "What are you doing?" She asked, looking around the room. It all looked fine, but then she noticed the huge blanket fort stretching over half of the space. Somehow, he'd found some Christmas lights and strung them inside of the fort, making a beautiful comforting place filled with pillows and the softest things she could imagine.

"You like it?" He asked, handing her one of the hot chocolates he'd made once everyone was asleep.

"You made this?"

He took her hand in his, the bandage on his side showing in a shocking white against his tan skin. "Come on." He pulled her into the fort, rolling himself into a blanket burrito, his eyes reflecting the Christmas lights like stars.

She laughed, spilling a little of her hot chocolate on her sweats. "What are you doing?"

He smiled, a real smile, and scooted closer wrapping her in the blanket with him. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, moved to the corner of her mouth, and finally onto her lips. He could taste the chocolate mixing with her vanilla chap stick, it only made him want to kiss her more. It'd been years since he'd had anything as sweet as she tasted.

She opened her mouth just a little, letting his tongue slip between her lips. She sighed into his mouth, feeling his hand brush through her hair, long fingers making her scalp tingle. "John…" She pushed him back, a hand on his chest. "I know what you're doing."

He sat back, refusing to make eye contact with her. "You wanna know something, Cherry?" His voice was a soft whisper, his hand coming to rest on her knee. "I'm a cherry too." He took a sidelong glance at her, noticing her reaction. "I've never done it."

Her mouth fell open, her shock plain as day on her perfect face. "You're a virgin?" She couldn't believe it. John Bender, the school criminal, was a virgin?

He nodded, taking a sip of the hot chocolate by his side. "Yep." He met her gaze, showing the true him for the first time in forever. "I'm a virgin." He leaned closer to her, his body pressing against hers as he kissed her neck.

She wrapped a hand around his side, her fingers brushing over a moist spot on his bandage. "Hold on." She lifted his arm, showing the little blotch of red soaking through the cotton pad. "When was the last time you changed this?"

He shrugged, letting her pick at the tape holding his bandage on. "After Sporto, Basket Case, and Brain left." He jumped as cotton pulled on the scab around his stitches. "Ow!"

Claire rolled her eyes, picking the last of the tape off of his side. She pretended not to notice his showing rips, but she couldn't help but see how his skin stretched over the bones of his chest. "Sorry." She crawled out of the fort, old bandage in hand. "I'll be back in a second." She slipped out the door, turning around right into her father's chest. "Dad?"


	11. Chapter 13

**Chapter thirteen**

Mr. Standish crossed his arms over his chest, eyes flitting between his daughter, and the burner's room. "What were you doing in there?" He asked, taking in the bandage pad in her hand.

She ducked her head, pointing to the bathroom. "He forgot to change his bandage, so I was helping him out." She wiped her lip ridding it of the hot chocolate and any trace of Bender's tongue being in her mouth.

Tom nodded, letting her walk by him, before opening the door to Bender's room. "John?" He lifted the 'roof' of the blanket fort, peering inside at the glaring kid inside. "May I speak with you?" He asked, picking up one of the hot chocolates that were resting on the carpet.

John gave a short nod, crawling out of his fortress and into the large room. "What you want?" He kept a wary eye on the older man, watching for the signal to defend himself.

Tom took a seat on the bare mattress, clasping his hands as he leaned his arms on his knees. "John, I care very deeply about Claire, and I don't want her getting hurt." He turned his gaze to the boy before him, watching as he tensed up. "Don't worry, as long as you keep the door open while she's in here with you, and abide by our rules, nothing will happen to you."

Bender lifted his chin, trying to figure out if Tom was lying or not. "And if I don't?" He knew that something was coming, he just didn't know when or what, and that was what scared him the most.

Tom met his eyes, attempting to make his message clear as possible. "I will have to deny you room and board and ban Claire to see you except in school, and even then, she will not talk to you, or look at you."

Bender nodded, mumbling under his breath.

"I'm sorry?" Tom asked, cocking an ear.

"Nothing." John turned his head as the doorknob turned, and his Claire walked in. He didn't let his act fall though, instead he nodded to her, and disappeared into his blanket cave again.

Tom sighed, giving Claire a pat before whispering his rules into her ear and leaving the room.

Claire crawled under the blankets, keeping the bandage packet off of the floor so the paper didn't rip. "You okay?" She whispered, placing a soft hand on the bare skin of his side, only to have it swept off with one quick movement from Bender. "John…"

"Fine." He moved his arm away from his stitches, allowing her room to fix him up. "Just get it over with and leave."

She opened the packet without another word, placing the cotton on his side and taping it down. "John-"

"Get out." He didn't look at her as he spoke, and she could tell he was holding back.

"John-"

"Get out." He repeated, his voice cracking.

"John-"

"Get out!" He shouted, turning a furious glare at her. "I told you to get out." His lip curled in a snarl, but there were tears shining in his eyes. "Now leave."

She ducked her head, shocked into silence by his outburst, and scurried back to her room, tears spilling from her eyes as she collapsed into her favorite pillow.


	12. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

John didn't sleep for hours. How could he? After the way he'd acted to Claire, his Claire? He hated what he'd done. He hated the fact that he was so hot headed. He laid with his ear pressed to the wall separating them, listening to the hiccupping sobs coming from Claire's room. He should go over there, tell her he was sorry. Tell her anything to fix what he'd done. He felt something wet roll down his cheek, and furiously wiped it away. God, he hated this. Slowly he pushed himself up, adjusting his boxers and grabbing a pair of stained sweatpants.

Claire lifter her gaze as her door was pushed open, praying that it wasn't Bender. She didn't want to see him right now. She didn't want to see anyone. "Go away." She wiped the snot from her nose, her swollen eyes landing on the form of none other than Johnathan Kurtis Bender.

John slowly stepped into her room, being careful to leave the door open. "Hey…" He eased onto her bed, his hands playing with the ties on his pants. "I, uh, I'm sorry…" He met her gaze, inching closer to her, and wiping a tear from her cheek. "I just lost my temper."

She leaned into his calloused hand, letting his long fingers trace the outline of her ear. "Did something happen?" She knew her dad would never hurt him, but none of them were sure how to approach such an explosive kid.

He shook his head, leaning closer to her. "Nothing happened." And with that he pressed his lips to hers, the taste of her sweet on his tongue.

She slipped her tongue into his mouth, the flavor of cigarettes and chocolate mixing in her mouth. "Mmm…" She moaned into his mouth, as he pressed himself farther into her. She placed a hand on his leg, feeling something inside his pants shift. "John…" She pushed him away, a scolding look in her eyes. "None of that."

He nodded, placing a pillow over his lap. "I know." He smirked, placing a hand behind her neck. "But you're so damn hot."

She rolled her eyes, giving him another peck on the lips. "You're an idiot."

He leaned back on her bed, being careful not to move the pillow. "I'm a tired idiot." He yawned, crossing his eyes to look at her toes. "How do girls always have nice feet?"

"Why do boys always have to be idiots?" She crossed her legs over his chest, letting him tickle her toes.

"Because you guys got the brains." He smiled, playing my little piggy on her feet.

"Go to bed…" She yawned, poking his hip until he moved off of her bed.

"Alright, alright, goodnight." He stretched his right arm over his head, stretching his left to the side as to not tear his stitches.

"Night." She curled under her blanket, savoring the taste of him as she fell asleep to dreams of John and her.


	13. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

"Johnathan!" Mrs. Standish called up the stairs. "Lunch is ready!" For the three weeks that John had been staying with them, Clarissa had been doing everything she could to put some meat on his bones. She'd been feeding him anything he would eat, which was almost everything but brussel sprouts and broccoli. She'd learned after a few days that his favorite snack was usually covered in sugar, and his new diet mostly consisted of cookies, candy, and salt and vinegar chips oddly enough.

John slid down the banister, still wet from his shower and halfway dressed in his jeans and the red flannel he was so fond of. "What's it today, Toots?" He hated being called by his full name, so he was always finding ways to get on her nerves. Today, he'd hidden an ink bomb in the upstairs bathroom drawer —the one that he'd discovered her makeup was kept in.

She set a plate piled high with French fries, Kraft mac and cheese, and a huge hamburger, before him. "Eat." She chuckled, before calling out the back door for her daughter —who was busy planting her garden for summer now that the snow had finally melted. "Claire, lunch."

John licked the ketchup off of his fingers, grabbing a huge forkful of mac. "A guy can get used to this." He mumbled around a mouthful of half chewed food.

Clarissa gave a sorrowful smile. No child should have to get used to a full belly, but this one had and she hated the people who'd forced that burden on him. She dreaded what would happen when he had to face them again. They'd delayed the court date for two weeks, and the judge was getting inpatient. They couldn't put it off anymore. "John," she sat across the table from him, folding her hands before her, "We've set a date." She waited for his reaction, praying to God that he didn't put another hole in the wall.

His head shot up, fear obvious in his dark eyes. "No." He stated, dropping his fork, a hand flying to one of the many scars on his torso. "Not… not yet." He'd just gotten used to living in a house with no pain, he couldn't risk going back. He had to find someway to put it off.

"I'm sorry honey." She knew it was hard for him, she couldn't imagine being in his shoes. She wouldn't lie, she could see why he got slapped around from time to time, but his folks had always taken it overboard. They never should have broken bones or left scars. That wasn't the way to treat your child. "We have to go this week." She could see John retreating into his act, and she feared what might come next. He'd never hit any of them, but one of her favorite vases had taken a blow from one of his fits, along with a few walls, and their record player. "John," she spoke softly, trying to pull him out of it, "John, look at me." She wanted nothing more than to reach out to him, but she knew what that might cause.

He flinched as the screen door slammed, turning his head to see the only girl who could pull him back to his safe place. "Hey there, Sweets." He smirked, taking in the smudged dirt on her chin.

She wrinkled her nose at him, making him laugh. "Johnathan." She grinned, taking a seat beside him.

John placed a fry in his teeth, leaning toward her as if to tempt her to take it from him. "Wanna fry?"

She rolled her eyes, taking the other half of the fry in her mouth, her lips brushing against his. "You're an idiot." She laughed, pushing his head away with a manicured finger on his forehead.

Clarissa shook her head, happy that John seemed to have forgotten about the court date for a moment. "Oh, John, Principal Fowler called today. You'll have to go back to school tomorrow otherwise you won't move up next year."

A sound somewhere between a growl, a scoff, and a choke escaped him, his already dark chocolate eyes turning almost as black as night. "Fuck school." He mumbled, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes. "Does Dick miss me or something?"

Claire and her mother both rolled their eyes; they knew he'd never liked school, but he seemed to hate it even more now that it wasn't the only safe place he had. Little did he know, that the Breakfast Club had hidden a little surprise in his locker. "You're something else." Clarissa sighed, hiding her laughter as she watched John shove a huge forkful of mac and cheese in his mouth.


	14. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

John picked at a rip in his jeans on the ride to school. He knew that there had to be rumors about his parents, and he honestly didn't want the pity from anyone in that school. It was bad enough that he had to deal with the Standish's, he didn't need three thousand other students giving him the same looks he got from Claire's family.

Claire knew he didn't want to speak, so instead, she attempted to calm his nerves with a tape she'd bought at the music and video store. She popped it into the radio console, letting the music play through the speakers.

Def Leppard blasted through the car, the lyrics to Rock Rock ('Till You Drop) filling her ears.

After a few moments, she noticed another voice mixing with Joe Elliot's. She glanced over to her passenger, noticing that his lips were moving and his eyes were closed.

"Women to left, women to the right. There to entertain you and take you through the night." His voice was rough and gritty, carrying the tune with more bass than Joe Elliot did. "So, grab a little heat and come along with me." His fingers moved with the same rhythm as the lead guitar, his feet keeping the beat with the drums. "Cause your mama don't mind what your mama don't see."

Claire smiled, listening to John belt it out. He never missed a beat, never missed a lyric, and always knew just when to take a breath for the next verse. She bit her lip, forcing herself to not say anything, afraid that he would stop. She turned into the school parking lot, waiting for the song to end before turning her vehicle off.

John slid down in his seat, flipping his shades over his eyes, and fiddled with the AC/DC pin on the lapel of his trench coat. "I swear, if anyone even looks at me weird, I'll kill 'em."

Claire nodded, popping her door open. Truth be told, she was scared too. She was scared that once her friends saw her with John, that she'd finally give into their pressure. She hated to think about all the looks they would get, but most of all, she hated the possibility of failing to stick with John through the teasing. "I bet you will."

Bender stepped out of the car, slamming the door, and sticking his gloved hands into his pockets. He didn't wait for Claire to catch up, instead, he walked right toward the school, stepping in front of another car without stopping.

Claire rushed after him, her flats slapping against the pavement. "John!" She called, finally catching up to him. "Wait up." She panted, barely able to keep pace with him.

"Hey look!" Shouted one of the jocks —who Claire recognized as Peter Howard— pointing to Bender. "It's the beater!" He stepped toward John as if he was looking for a fight. "What's wrong?" He mocked, getting into John's face. "Daddy give you a black eye?"

John's lip curled, and almost a second later, Peter had a big glob of spit dripping from his nose. "Go to hell." He growled, pushing past the brute.

Peter whirled on him, grabbing his arm and slamming him into the concrete railing of the steps. "After you, Burner." He spat, grinning at the squeak of pain that escaped the weaker teen.

"Hey!" Andy barked, pushing Peter off of his friend. "Leave him alone."

Bender pushed away from the railing, squaring his shoulders and balling his fists.

Claire could see what was coming next, but it happened so fast that she almost missed it.

John punched Peter right in the nose, hard enough to make it bleed but not break. He threw the punch so perfectly, that Peter fell right on his butt, screaming that his nose was broken. Bender rolled his shoulders, pushing past the few kids that had gathered around the fight. "It's not broken asshole." He stated, taking his dark glasses off and showing the fading bruises around his eyes. "This is what it looks like when you break your nose."

There was a gasp from the crowd, as John put his glasses on again, and walked into the school.

Claire started after him, but was stopped by her friend Jessica. "Is he seriously living with you?" Her bright red lipstick made her look even more bitchy than she normally did.

Claire nodded, adjusting her backpack on her shoulder. "Yep."

"And you're not scared that he's gonna, like, rape you in your sleep?" Jessica asked, walking beside her.

"He wouldn't do that." She wanted more than anything for John to show the real him, the him that she got to see at home, but deep down she knew he would never let that happen. "Listen, I have to get to class. I'll see you later." She rushed off, turning through the twisting halls until she made it to Bender's locker. The others were already there, waiting for him to open the door.

"What the hell are you all waiting for?" He snapped, spinning the combination into his lock. "What did you plant in here?"

"Just open it." Allison ordered, bouncing on her toes.

He shook his head as the lock popped open. "Hold your horses, Alli." He opened his locker, his jaw dropping open as he stared at what was inside. "No fucking way…"


	15. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

"Do you like it?" Brian asked, his grin spreading from ear to ear.

John couldn't speak, he could barely stand, and he sure as hell couldn't believe his eyes. There, in front of him, was a genuine Fender Stratocaster HSS Plus Top. He reached toward it, his fingers brushing over the strings.

Andy chuckled, lifting the instrument from the locker and looping it over his friend's shoulder. "Play something." He plugged it into the mini amplifier they'd bought for him, and offered him a pick.

John ignored the pick, placing his hands over the strings. He strummed a few cords, knitting them into a rhythm, and eventually a song. His voice began as a rumble in his throat, soon becoming a soft song. "Outta luck, outta love, got a photograph picture of, passion killer, you're too much. You're the only one, I wanna touch."

The group all smiled, cheering at his hidden talents. "That's awesome!" Allison bounced on her toes, clapping her hands together.

Pure joy graced John's face, even the yellow bruises around his eyes seemed to fade with his smile. "How…?" He looked between his friends, the question showing in his eyes.

"We all pitched in," Andy stated, "and our folks even helped out a little."

Allison nodded so fast that John thought her head might pop off. "My parents actually payed attention to me when I told them about it!"

"You're forgetting about someone." Carl laughed, patting John on the back. "Glad you like it kid."

The group's joy was soon paused as the bell rang for classes to start, and they each started for their first class of the day.

Brian settled into his desk in trigonometry, the only class that he had with John -other than shop. He'd never noticed until he caught Bender walking through the door. Hadn't he said he could care less about trig? He watched as John pulled a pencil from his shirt pocket, glanced at the book that one of the kids beside him had, and began scribbling something down on the smallest pad of paper imaginable. Brian's brown furrowed, what was he doing? After a few minutes, Bender just kicked back, slid his shades over his eyes, and seemed to fall asleep.

Brian sat through the rest of the class, franticly scribbling half legible notes into a huge notebook. He could hear Bender snoring in the back, occasionally he would jerk awake, but usually went right back to sleep.

"Okay," Announced Mrs. Quinn, as she passed out the test papers. "You have forty-five minutes to complete the test, and your grades will be passed out on Friday." She smiled at Brian, nodding toward Bender. "Glad you got him to come."

John jerked awake once more, this time staying awake for more than five seconds. He took the paper from Mrs. Quinn, and bent over it for a few moments, before walking to the front and handing it to her.

Brian stared in shock. "How?" He whispered, his brow furrowing as John plopped back into his seat to continue his nap.

The rest of class was a living hell, Brian couldn't concentrate for the life of him, but he did eventually get his work done right as the bell rang.

Bender was the first one out, like a bird flying from a cage. It took Brian a whole ten minutes to catch up to him, and when he finally did, he found him sitting on the bleachers his new guitar in hand. "Damn you're fast." He panted, watching his friend pluck at the strings.

Bender shrugged, looking up at the nerd. "Why'd you chase me out here?" He asked, resting his arm over the top of his guitar.

"How did you finish the test so fast?" Brian sat next to him, pulling on a thread on his sweater. "It took me the whole forty-five minutes."

"Because you're thinking too much." He plucked a few strings, before looking back at the younger kid. "We burners aren't all dumb shitheads."


	16. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

John grabbed a leather coat, pulling it over his shoulders, before he grabbed a good old AC-DC welder and rod. He caught a glance of Brian struggling with the helmet, chuckling as the mask kept falling over his eyes and blinding him. He waved the nerd over, grabbing a helmet of his own. "Big Bri having a hard time with the boneheads?" He mocked, taking the metal devise from his head. "Here, like this." He twisted one of the knobs on the sides, placing it back on his head. "That should do it." He started to gather a few scraps of steel, and knelt beside the project he'd been working on for the better part of the school year; a huge statue of a dinosaur. "If you're gonna hang around, put the mask down." He gave a short nod, letting the mask fall over his face, and started to weld a clean line. The metal seemed to stitch together as if by magic, and if it hadn't been for the flux that stuck to the seam, Brian would have seen just how perfect the bead was.

John pulled the rod away, flipping his helmet up and picking up a hammer to chip the flux off. He smiled as the dime-roll pattern was revealed.

"Holy cow!" Brian exclaimed, reaching an ungloved hand out to touch the weld, only to have his wrist caught by John.

"Hot steel looks just like cold steel." He stated, pressing the leather of his welding glove to the bead, showing how it smoked and became branded with the heat. "How the hell have you survived in here?"

Brian shrugged, pulling his hand back from the steel plate. "Luck?"

John shook his head, handing the electrode and rod to Brian. "Wanna give it a shot?" He asked, holding a new scrap to the statue.

Brian shook his head, eyes wide at the offer. "I don't wanna ruin it." He stated, dropping the rod onto a piece of scrap sending a shower of sparks onto John's pants. "Oh shit!" He exclaimed, attempting to help put out the hot splatter by patting them out. "I am so sorry!"

John pushed him away, patting his jeans down, and showing the little burn hole and the singed skin beneath. "Nothing I'm not used to."

Brian was silent, remembering the cigar burn. "I, I'm really sorry."

John shrugged, starting back to the project at hand. "You think Claire might like a rose?" He asked, flipping his helmet down again, and waiting for Brian to do the same.

Brian waited for him to finish the weld, before answering. "Like the flower?"

"I was thinking about making her one here." Bender shrugged, picking up the hammer once again. "God, I hate flux."

Brian's brow furrowed in confusion. "Like… a metal rose?" He'd never heard of that before. How could someone make a flower with steel? It seemed impossible to him.

"No, a water rose." John rolled his eyes. "Of course, a metal rose."

"Yeah… I think she'd like that." Brian shrugged. "I don't know what her favorite flower is though."

John nodded, he hadn't thought about that. He'd always though all girls like roses. "Think you could ask her for me?" He thought for a second. "Or maybe get Alli to do it?"

Brian nodded, dropping the mask as Bender started another bead. "Sure." He shouted over the buzz of the welder.


	17. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

Finally, lunch time came and John couldn't believe that for the first time in his life, he actually had money to buy a school lunch. Normally, he would either be out smoking a joint, threatening another kid for food, or hanging out in the gym shooting a few hoops or climbing the rope. He knew that the last two didn't really help him gain weight, but it did allow him to add muscle and take out aggression.

He grabbed a plastic tray from the start of the food line, slowly making his way through the line.

When he was about halfway through, Peter sidled up to him, grabbing his shirt collar and yanking him out of line. "What? To hurt to take on one of the dorks for food?" He sneered, nodding to Brian who was about three people behind John. "Why don't you take on Johnson?" He asked, pushing him toward the lanky kid.

John clutched a hand over his still tender ribs, fighting the rage building inside his chest. "Fuck off, Jockstrap." He barked, the whole cafeteria going silent. "I don't wanna get into this with you." He wished he still had his switchblade, but he'd mysteriously lost it between English class and history, oddly enough he hadn't been around Allison when it disappeared, so he had no idea who might have it.

"Why not?" Peter asked, taking a threatening step toward him. "Scared I'll tell your daddy and get you beat up again?"

John ran his tongue over his bottom teeth, stepping forward, one fist balled just in case. "Because I'll kill you." He stated, the same way he had when he used that line on Andy. "I'll kill you, and your fucking parents will sue me, and I don't care enough to deal with all that."

Without warning, the jock took a swing, connecting with Bender's jaw. "You're bluffing."

John's plan was working, at this point, anything he did, was self-defense. He dodged the next strike, grabbing his wrist to twist it in between his shoulders. He pushed forward, forcing the meat-head to the ground, and started wailing on him. He knew he had the advantage now, especially since he'd gained a little weight. He was used to street fights, lord knew he'd been in enough to hold his own, and knew how to find his opponents tell; with Peter, it was his eyes, every time he threw a punch he would shift his gaze.

"John!" Claire's voice cut through the chanting crowd, and after about six seconds he was being pulled off of the bloody bruised jock by none other than Vice Principle Vernon.

"Bender, Peter, my office." He grabbed them both by the collars, John by his denim, and Peter by his varsity jacket. "Now."


	18. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

"I expect this from a nothing like you Bender." He shot John a dirty look, making the teen avoid eye contact by glaring at the wall. "But Pete, you know better than to get into a brawl on campus." His voice, and look noticeably softened when he spoke to the jock, as if he was lecturing a twelve-year-old.

"What I did was self-defense." John snapped, already tired of Dick's crap. "If they throw the first hit, it's free game." He jabbed his thumb at the meat-head beside him. "It doesn't matter if I can hit harder, or if I waste his ass. He hit's first, I can do whatever the hell I want to him."

"Faggot." Peter growled, checking the wads of tissue in his nose.

Vernon, pointed a finger at John, ignoring Peter's comment. "I'm getting tired of your shit, Bender." He pointed to the calendar. "I've still got you for one full month, if you'd like to add to that, be my guest."

Just as Bender was ready to retaliate, someone knocked on the door. "Mr. Vernon, may I come in?" It was Mrs. Quinn, her Blonde hair poking into the office. "I thought this might help." She smiled at John, handing Vernon a piece of paper and a VHS tape.

Vernon's brows shot up when he saw the paper, glancing between John and the test. "How the hell?"

Mrs. Quinn took the tape from him, and popped it into the TV on the corner, turning it on to show the video of the fight at lunch. "It looks to me, like Peter was the instigator and Johnathan was only defending himself." She paused the video, turning to Peter. "How dare you." She scolded. "How dare you, start beating on Johnathan." She turned to John, her gaze softening. "He just got out of the hospital, and his parents are in prison. Just because-" She stopped when John shot to his feet, exiting the room as fast as he could.

John raced down the halls, stopping at his locker to grab his guitar before bolting to the music room. He knew that there was a sound booth there, and he just needed somewhere he could be alone. He burst through the door, interrupting the choir class that was in session, and made his way to the soundproof room in the corner.

He pugged his guitar in, putting the headphones on and started the opening cords to Hells Bells by AC/DC. "I'm rolling thunder, pouring rain, I'm coming in like a hurricane." His voice was as loud as he could be, the rough bass tones somehow making their way through the walls of the recording booth. He sang his heart out, sang until his vocal cords went numb. He sang through the tears that were pouring from his eyes, never missing a note. He almost got through the whole album, before he was interrupted by a knock on the door. He pressed the button that allowed him to speak with the outside world. "What?" He barked, his voice little more than a rough growl.

The door cracked open, and Allison stepped inside. "You're really good." She looked at her shoes, sensing that he was on edge and probably didn't want to talk. "We, we could hear you since the door was cracked." She lifted his gaze, meeting the dark knives that were John's. "Miss Baxter wanted to talk to you."

He shook his head, placing the headphones on again. "I don't wanna talk to anyone."

She nodded, risking a step closer. "She wanted to know if you'd play at the prom."

He didn't reply, but he couldn't talk very well, so instead he just shrugged.

Allison turned back to the door, pausing just long enough to speak one last sentence to him. "Just think about it."

He nodded, giving her a thumbs up as he went back to playing.


	19. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-one**

The rest of the day passed in a blur, and with every passing moment, all John could think about was the Marijuana that he used to keep in his locker. God, why did he have to take that home? It'd been the only thing he couldn't take to the Standish house, that and the carton of cigarettes he'd left in the box that had served as his dresser. It was some stupid rule that the Standish's had come up with the day he moved in. No smoking of any kind as long as he lived under their roof. Mrs. Standish even took the liberty of smelling his hair and shirts every time he walked in the house.

After what seemed like days, the final bell rang. He was free! Out of habit, he pulled on his coat —though it was almost too warm for it— and hightailed it for the door. He was almost halfway across the football field before Andy caught up with him, Claire showing up a few moment's later. "Where…" she panted, "are you… going?"

"Yeah man, what's up with that?" Andy placed a hand on Claire's shoulder as she regained his breath.

He shook his head. "Old habits die hard." He chuckled, starting back toward the parking lot where her car was parked.

Andy looked between Bender and Claire, the question they were both thinking obvious on his face. "What's up with him?"

Claire shrugged, starting after her boyfriend. "John! Car!" She shouted, as he stepped in front of yet another car. "I swear, if he gets hit, he will get no sympathy." She turned to Andy, holding her hand toward Bender's back. "Why does he do that?"

Andy shrugged, pausing to look both ways before stepping into the parking lot. "Death wish?" He guessed. "Or maybe he smoked too much dope?"

Claire giggled, covering her mouth with a hand. "Or maybe it was the cigarettes, pot, and booze mixed together."

John turned, walking backwards so that he could see them. "Or maybe I just don't give a shit." He smirked at the look they gave him, nearly bumping into Allison, who was waiting by Claire's car with his guitar.

"You forgot this in your locker." She held it and the amp out to him.

John stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out how she had gotten in there. "How the hell did you open it?" He asked, taking his instrument from her.

"I stole your lock earlier." She smiled, pulling it from her bag. "You left it open before you went to chemistry."

"You little thief." He chuckled, opening the back door to Claire's car and placing the guitar inside.

She smiled, tilting her head slightly. "It's what I do best."


	20. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

The week crawled by, and finally when the weekend came, John could relax. Only one problem, he couldn't get the court date out of his head. He knew his parents would be proven guilty, but he knew that his old man would have something up his sleeve. He plucked a few strings on his guitar, in an attempt to distract himself.

Mrs. Standish had been complaining that she never saw him anymore and all she heard from him was his loud music. She'd always preferred peace and quiet, but the truth was, she was happy that John seemed to be enjoying himself. "That boy…" She sighed, as the tune to Whitesnake's Don't Break My Heart Again blasted through the house. "He's going to be famous someday." She smiled at Claire, who was mouthing the lyrics.

"You should hear him sing." She grinned, sticking her pencil behind her ear as she looked up from her math homework. "He kinda sounds like Dee Snider."

Her mother just shook her head. "I'm wondering if he's a good influence on you." She laughed. Her smile faded when the music stopped mid song, and an unusual quiet settled around the house. "Should we check on him?" She turned to her daughter, concern written on her features.

Claire stood, holding a hand out to stop her mother. "I'll check." She stated, starting toward the stairs. "He's usually easier to deal with if I'm there."

Claire paused at John's door, listening for any sign of a bad mood, but there was none, not so much as a peep. Carefully, she knocked, the door opening slightly. "John?" She poked her head inside, looking around for him. The window was open, and she could just barely see the toe of his boot on the roof. "John, what're you doing?" She walked to the window, the skunky scent of weed filling her nose. "Johnathan!" She crawled onto the roof, just catching him in time to see him grind out the joint on the sole of his shoe. "What are you doing?" She asked.

He shrugged, refusing to make eye contact, as he flicked the rest of the joint toward the pond in the backyard. "Needed to wind down." He stated, obviously starting to feel the effects from the pot already.

"John," she scooted closer, taking his hand in hers and holding it close to her chest "it's going to be okay." She kissed his knuckles; the scars smooth against her lips. "You're doing the right thing."

He turned to her, his pupils where dilated and he was so high that she could practically see him mellowing out like a cat in the sun. "I don't wanna do it." He stated, turning his face to the sun, the warm rays showing the barely visible bruises around his eyes. "I want a donut." He stated as the munchies started to set in.

"Obviously we're not gonna get anywhere right now." She sighed, pulling on his hand in an attempt to get him inside. "Come on."

He crawled after her, enjoying the view of her ass. "Can I have a donut?" He asked as they reentered his room.

"Yes, you can have a donut." She smiled, pointing to the bathroom. "After you take a shower."

He nodded, slowly moseying to the bathroom. "Okay."

She shook her head, wondering if she'd been that weird when she'd smoked his weed at school. Apparently, if you hadn't smoked for a while, you had to rebuild a tolerance for it. "Thank God, that we're going tomorrow." She sighed, stepping out of his room.


	21. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

Claire waited for John to start the shower, before she went back downstairs to grab one of the donuts that her father had bought then for breakfast. "He's fine." She reported to her mother, snatching a donut for herself. "He's just a little stressed out."

Clarissa nodded, starting to sniff the air around Claire. "Was he smoking pot?" She asked, smelling Claire's blouse.

Claire ducked her head, taking a huge bite of the chocolate glazed pastry. "Yeah…"

Mrs. Standish sighed, turning her head toward the staircase. "Well… I'll give him a break this time." She knew that he'd been trying to get clean, but she also knew that he was under a lot of pressure. Not to mention the fear that must have been coursing through his mind. She hated that he was being forced into this, but there was really nothing she could do. She only hoped that tomorrow things would work out in the end. "Poor baby." She knew that John hated the sympathy that everyone gave him, but she just couldn't help it. He'd been almost a month sober, and now he'd have to start from scratch. "I wish we could do more."

Claire nodded, finishing off her donut as she heard a loud thud from the bathroom followed by a string of profanity. She looked to her mother, attempting to hide her smile. "I bet he dropped the shampoo bottle."

They both burst out laughing, and Claire realized for the first time just how much John was helping her family when they were trying to help him. Her mother actually seemed happier, and her parents had stopped using her to get back at each other, and the fighting was almost nonexistent.

"I really like him Mom." She smiled, listening for the shower to turn off.

Clarissa nodded, turning back to the dinner she was cooking. "Me too, Sweets." She grinned as she used John's nickname for her.

Finally, the morning of court arrived, but with it, came the crippling anxiety of facing the people who had beaten John into submission. The whole family was on edge, the tension so thick you could almost cut it with a knife.

That is, until Claire found the ink bomb in her makeup drawer. All John heard was a scream and the thought 'oh shit' passed through his head, before a steaming mad Claire burst through his door, with purple ink staining her dress. "Johnathan!"

He'd been wondering why that hadn't gone off yet, and now he knew why. That was Claire's makeup drawer, and since she never wore makeup anymore, it had gone off on the one day that none of them needed it to. "Claire…" He backed himself up to a wall, his arms instinctively covering his stomach and chest. "I, I thought that that was your mom's makeup…" He started looking for a way out, his fear rising like a title wave.

She glared at him, for a moment before shaking her head. "That would have been funnier if it was her." She smiled, a little laugh bouncing in her chest. "You're still an asshole though."

John smirked, relaxing slightly. That is, until he started attempting to tie his necktie on. "How the hell… does this work?" He asked, as he failed for the third time.

Claire rolled her eyes, taking the tie in her nimble fingers. "Here." She slipped the knot up toward his neck, catching a glimpse of a thin scar under his jaw. "It's easy really."

He gave a short laugh, rolling his eyes as he looked in his mirror, hardly recognizing himself. "I look like a richie." He growled, messing with the gold cufflinks on his wrists.

"I'm gonna go change." She turned to go to her room. "Don't ruin your suit."


	22. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

John pulled at the tie around his neck, shifting and wiggling in his chair. "Fuck…" He hissed, picking at the collar of the shirt.

Mr. Standish leaned closer to him to whisper in his ear. "Watch it." He raised a brow, nodding to the judge. "That won't help your case."

John rolled his eyes, it was bad enough that he had to wear a suit. Now he couldn't cuss on top of that? Just as he was about to comeback with a smartass comment, the doors at the back of the courtroom opened, and his father walked through, a glare that John knew all too well, aimed directly at him. John fought the urge to shrink back, he wouldn't give his old man that satisfaction.

His mother was the next one in, and John could tell that she hadn't had a hit for a while. He knew that would make her jumpier and possibly chattier and more annoying than usual.

"Court is in session." The judge announced, pounding her gavel on the stand. "First order of business, Johnathan Kurtis Bender, verses Jacob William Bender, in a case of severe child abuse."

John took a breath, attempting to calm his racing heart. He could feel his dad's eyes drilling into his skull, even though he wasn't looking at his dad.

"The Court calls Johnathan to the stand." She locked eyes with him, waving him forward when he hesitated.

John looked to Thomas, fear showing in his dark eyes clear as day.

Thomas nodded, urging him on. "Go ahead."

Slowly, John rose and walked to the chair beside the judge.

One of the attorneys approached him, holding a bible out. "Place your hand on the Bible, and raise your right hand."

John did as told, repeating the words that the man told him to.

"Mr. Bender, is it true that you've spent not one, but two nights in jail for two, separate convictions?" Asked the defending attorney, handing a file to the judge. "Once for underaged drinking, and another time for assault?"

John's eyes flitted between his dad and Mr. Standish, before he answered. "Yes, Sir." He ducked his head, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. "That is true." He found his hand resting over the burn on his arm.

"And is it also true that you've destroyed not only civilian property, but school property as well."

John bit his lip sinking father into his chair. "Yes Sir."

"And you've also been known to associate with drug dealers, both inside and outside of Shermer High?"

John's head dropped even farther. "Yes Sir."

"And what did you purchase from those dealers?"

John's gaze shifted from Claire's parents, to the man in front of him. "Marijuana, and Ketamine pills."

The lawyer grinned, he'd landed on something that he could use. "Did you ever drug either one of your parents, to get out of trouble?"

"No Sir." He dropped his gaze to his lap, avoiding the heartbroken looks the Standish family gave him. "I only waited for them to pass out, before spending the night out of the house."

"And where would you stay on those nights?"

He took a shaky breath, remembering the nights that he'd spent half-frozen on park benches and under bridges. "Sometimes with a friend, or in the park or under a bridge."

"Ah, so you're a trespasser as well?"

"I did what I had to do to survive." John's voice started to strain, like he was about to cry, or go into a fit.

Claire watched from her seat behind her father, wishing that she could get the guy to back off, but she knew that she had no standing in court. She leaned toward her mother. "I hate this." She whispered, as the attorney continued to bombard John with questions, until it looked like he might finally break from the fear coursing through his veins.

Her mother rested a hand on her knee, watching as he shrunk in on himself and began putting up his wall. "I know."

After what felt like hours —though it was probably only a few minutes— John was released from the stand, and allowed to go back to his seat next to Claire's dad. He was shaking, his breath coming in short hitches.

Now it was his dad's turn to tell his side of the story. Mr. Standish made his way to stand in front of Jacob. "Mr. Bender Senor," He started, "Is it true, that you threatened the life of your child on several different occasions, including once when he was arrested for underage drinking and asked you to bail him out?"

Jacob, shook his head, holding his chin high. "I did no such thing, I simply disciplined him as I saw fit."

John wrapped his arms around himself, hugging his chest and shrinking even smaller than anyone ever would have guessed. It was strange for the Standish's to see him this way, like a small child who'd been through too much in his life.

Thomas handed his own file to the judge. "Is it true that you've broken your son's nose, ribs, leg, and wrist, as well as verbally and mentally abusing him, along with using a lightweight chain to not only whip but to choke him until he lost consciousness?"

"No." He stated, glancing at the cowering child in the chair before him. "He chose to start a fight with me and his mother," He nodded to Beverly Bender at the other table, "He even went as far as to pull a knife on us when Beverly failed to cook diner before he got home."

"According to Johnathan's weight, he's well under the proper body mass for a young man of his height and build." He picked up a photo from his briefcase, handing it to the judge. "As you can see, your honor, he is much too thin to have been eating regular meals."

"We tried to feed him, but we just couldn't afford to both clothe and feed a child who eats like a horse." John's father scrambled for a foothold. "We could barely afford to feed ourselves."

Mr. Standish motioned to Jacob's potbelly. "It seems you never missed a meal."

John started picking at a loose thread, attempting to distract himself. He knew what that picture was. It was a picture of him three days after he got out of the hospital, standing in nothing but one of those speedo swimsuits. He could just see the pointy bones protruding from his hips and ribcage. He was just glad that Claire had never seen it.

Mr. Standish called John's mother to the stand next. "Mrs. Bender, were you or were you not, able to provide food for your child?"

Beverly franticly shook her head, and John could recognize the withdrawals of her heroine addiction. "No." She stated, picking at a spot on her hand. "He always ate too much for us to give him."

"And did you ever witness your husband disciplining your child."

Again, she shook her head. "No." She looked from her husband to her child. "He only ever used verbal corrections when I was in the room."

"Did you ever partake in these corrections?"

She nodded. "I only told him the truth of what I saw."

John looked toward the wall, anger showing through the fear he was feeling. "Fucking junky." He growled.

Claire didn't care about anything that his parents had to say, she just wished that she could somehow help John. Instead, she found herself biting at the acrylic nails that she'd just gotten redone.

John listened to his mother's lies, each one making him madder, and madder, until he could barely see straight. He bit his tongue until he tasted blood, to keep himself from speaking his mind. He hated this. All he wanted was for his parents to never see the light of day again.

Finally, the judge spoke up. "Now, we will take a short intermission to let the jury decide on the verdict." She nodded to the people in the jury, letting them exit the room.

John risked a glance at his father as he slowly stood, to follow Mr. Standish out of the room. He made the horrible mistake, of not watching his step, giving his father the chance to trip him. In the blink of an eye, John was in a fight for his life, his father on top of him, a shiv pressed to his stomach right over his liver. "I'm gonna fucking kill you this time." He growled, pushing the shiv father into his body. "If I go to prison, at least I'll know you're dead and in the ground."

Without warning, John's knee shot up, connecting with his groin and giving him time to roll out from under his dad. "Fuck you!" He screamed, his rage finally having an outlet, as he lit into his father like a rabid dog. He did everything he could to cause his old man pain, including scratching, punching, kicking, biting, he even got his hand on the shiv, holding it so tight that it cut into his own hand as he held it to his fathers bloodied neck. "I'll fucking kill you." He growled, the threat holding truth in the words.

He pushed the shiv closer to his father's jugular vein, but was stopped when he was pulled harshly to his feet by Mr. Standish. "Come on son, that's enough, don't let him win this way." He pulled John's quivering form close, shielding the boy's tears from his father.

John nodded, turning back to his dad, tears still streaming down his face. "Look what you did!" He shouted, balling his fists to help give himself strength, pushing the shiv deeper into his flesh. "I'm this way because of you!" He faked toward his mother, who was in a state of shock, she'd never seen her son this way before. "I hope you both rot in hell!" He screamed, dropping the makeshift blade and letting his blood drip onto the floor.


	23. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

Mr. Standish helped John out of the courtroom, holding his hand palm up so that he didn't drip too much blood onto the floor. "It's okay." He encouraged, wiping an old handkerchief over his hand. "You did good."

John didn't respond, he didn't even seem to react to the inevitable pain he was feeling. He'd stopped crying after a few seconds, and it seemed like he wasn't even aware of what was happening around him.

Claire and her mother, walked after them until they reached the car. "Are you sure that they don't need us anymore?" Clarissa asked, opening the back door of their BMW so that John could get inside.

Thomas shook his head, wrapping the kerchief tighter around John's hand. "No, they'll call me back when they get a verdict, but it's more important to get him fixed up now." He slid into the driver's seat, starting the car as Claire belted herself in.

She reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder but stopped when her father shot her a look in the rearview mirror.

"Let him be." He stated, turning toward the hospital. "Don't do anything right now, we don't know how he'll react." He knew that it was hard for Claire to not comfort John, but his first priority was to protect his family. He knew that John was on edge, and he'd already caused both himself and his father a lot of pain, he didn't need Claire risking being on his bad side. John had never hit any of them, but he was still unpredictable, even with the punching bag he'd put up in the garage for him, his temper was still a risk when pushed too far.

Thomas pulled up to the ER, letting Claire and her mother get out and help John inside before parking his car.

When he entered the waiting room, there was already a nurse unwrapping John's hand, and the boy seemed to actually be responding now. Thomas breathed a sigh of relief, as he made his way over to them.

"Hurts." John stated, seeming to only be able to communicate with one-word sentences at the moment.

Clarissa laid her arm over his shoulders, hugging his form close to her. "I know honey." She ran her fingers through the back of his hair, noticing that his hair was almost the long enough to reach his jaw.

The nurse rose, waving them back to one of the rooms. "We'll get him stitched up now."

John stood, his hand starting to throb as the adrenalin started to fade. He found himself wishing for one of those Ketamines to numb the pain. He'd been taking them to manage the pain from his father's beatings, but now he didn't have anything.

As if on que, Claire took his good hand in hers, her eyes meeting his. "You're okay." She smiled, letting him lean on her as he sat on the uncomfortable hospital chair beside her to wait for his stitches.

A few moments passed, and the Doctor finally walked through the door. "Alright, let's take a look." He leaned over John's hand, scanning over the deep cut. "How did he do this?" He asked, turning to Mr. Standish.

"We were in court, to help him get away from his parents abuse and his father pulled a shiv on him." He watched as John noticeably tensed, an ache starting in his heart.

The doctor nodded, opening a sterile needle that was already threaded. "Alright, this'll sting a little bit, but let me know if you need something for the pain." He pushed the needle into John's palm, surprised by the fact that John didn't even flinch.

Claire looked away from the gruesome scene before her. She didn't really mind blood, but she couldn't take seeing that much blood coming from John. She could tell every time that a new stitch was placed in his hand by the change in his breath, but he never moved through all five of the sutures. For the first time, she really got an idea of how tough he was, and it made her wonder if he'd ever stitched himself back together.

There was almost no reaction from John, until they wiped his cut down with antiseptic. "Shit." He hissed, his good hand squeezing Claire's slightly.

"I know baby." Mrs. Standish watched as the doc wrapped his hand in a tight bandage, hoping that she could remember how to wrap it when they got home. "Thank you doctor Paulin." She shook his hand as they stood. "Hopefully, we won't be in again." She smiled sweetly, not noticing how John seemed to pause for a moment.

"Can I have a pen and some paper?" He asked, using the first full sentence since he'd broken down at the courthouse.

Mr. Standish pulled a pen from his breast pocket, handing it to John as the doctor fetched a sheet of paper. "You feeling okay?" He asked, as John leaned over the paper on the counter in the corner of the room, his hand shakily forming letters.

"I wanted to make sure I can still write." He dropped the pen, before leaving the room with Claire close on his heals.

Mrs. Standish offered another thank you before following her husband and daughter out of the room and after John. "We're extremely thankful."


	24. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

That night, Claire was allowed to sleep in the same room as John. Her parents were hoping that would help with his nightmares, no one ever slept well when he got those and after today they knew there would be repercussions from the attack.

Claire climbed into the queen-sized bed, glancing at the notebook in John's hand. "What's that?" She asked, pulling the thick blanket over her legs.

He shrugged, chewing on his pen, deep in thought. "It's just some ideas."

"Can I read one?" She scooted closer, leaning her head on his shoulder.

He thought for a moment before handing the beat-up notebook to her, and flipping it to one of the complete entries, tapping on it. "It's an old one, but I like it."

She carefully read the neat lines of clean cursive.

Shadows

I sleep with one eye open waiting  
for the monster's shadow to darken  
my door - the burden of fear becomes  
too heavy and I run

Into the cold, dark night, I run until I tire.  
A thin coat is my blanket, a rock is my pillow.  
Safety is far away. Fear saps warmth from  
my bones. Fear engulfs me like fog.

No need to pass through the gates of hell,  
for I'm already there. I love and hate the stones  
beneath my body. They torment and help  
me during the long night.

They keep me half-awake to guard my boots  
and earthly wealth. My pockets carry what I hold dear.  
My hopes and dreams are frozen by fear and anger.  
I just want to find the key so I can be free.

Jack Frost's fingers dig into my bones.  
Finding every break and bruise, freezing  
my heart and soul. The Sandman extends  
his hand. Sleep closes my eyes.

Shadows and evil haunt my dreams.  
I look to the horizon. Safety is far away.  
I reach for the friend whispering from  
the depths of my pocket.

Life seems better for each wave  
of darkness returns with fresh vengeance.  
Worse than before. I try to hide my tears.  
If I don't fight the monster will win.

I awaken covered in dew. I empty gravel  
and blood fill my boots. Pain begins  
anew. I push through the barrier. It's a new  
day. The cycle starts again.

She turned her teary eyes to him, letting the book rest in her lap as she wrapped him in a strong hug. "I wish I had been there."

He returned her embrace, pressing his lips to the crown of her head. He felt her hands clutching his shirt, her tears soaking through the tank top he had on. He carefully wrapped the blanket around her, slowly leaning back until they were laying down. "Sleep." He started to hum a little melody, hoping to calm her into slumber.

"I love you." She whispered into his chest, taking a deep breath of his new scent. He didn't smell like cigarettes anymore. Instead, he had the smell of sawdust and motor oil from his shop classes. It was the smell of a working man, and she loved it.

He nodded, his mind racing a million miles a minute. He knew that he liked her, and every time he saw her his chest got all fluttery. But was that love? His head said there was no such thing, but his heart said something else. He felt totally confused, how did people know if they loved someone? What was love?

"Do you love me?" She asked, lifting her head to look at him.

He met her gaze, not knowing what to say. "I… I don't know…" He whispered, dropping his eyes to his chest. "I'm not sure about anything right now…"

She laid her head back down, listening to his strong heart. "Okay…"

 **Okay, this chapter is not all my own work. The poem was written by HMG2000 who was kind enough to help me with a lot of this book and has kept me inspired to continue it as far as I have. Thank you HMG2000!**


	25. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

John woke to someone shaking him, his body going into panic mode. "Hit! Don't!" He shook his head, attempting to clear the fog in his brain. "What… what's going on?" He asked, turning to the redhead by his side.

"Another nightmare." She rested her hands on his shoulder, dark circles starting to appear under her eyes. "That's the fourth one."

He pressed a kiss to her head, letting his hands loop around her waist his fingers drawing little circles on the skin where her t-shirt had ridden up. "I'm sorry." He rested his forehead against hers. "Maybe I should just sleep downstairs."

She clutched his hand. "No." She pulled him closer, kissing his chapped lips. "They'll just be worse if you're alone."

He leaned back into the pillows, pulling her with him and curling around her protectively. "Thank you." He whispered, kissing her face as she fell asleep.

The next morning, Mrs. Standish walked into John's room to see them both curled around each other, Claire with her arms and legs halfway on top of the much larger boy, and John with one purple hand from loss of circulation because of Claire's weight, and the other arm stretched over her waist. "Oh, my goodness." She smiled, waving her husband into the room. "Look at these two."

Thomas shook his head. "how many did he have last night?" He asked, knowing that his wife was more likely to have heard John than he was.

"Four, from what I heard." She sighed. "Maybe we should take him to a therapist?" The conversation was cut short by John stirring out of his slumber. "Good morning sleepyhead." She chuckled at his crazy bedhead.

He just grunted in response, looking over at the sleeping Claire at his side. "Sweets?" He poked the back of her neck, repeating the motion until she finally woke. "Outta bed." He stated, attempting to move his arm from under her.

"Mmmm…" She moaned, rubbing her eyes. "You're a pain." She yawned, crawling out of bed to get ready for school.

Mrs. Standish turned to follow her daughter. "I've got breakfast ready when you get dressed." She smiled, knowing that John would start moving faster when she told him what she'd made. "It's bacon and pancakes with eggs." She couldn't contain her laugher as she heard John fly out of bed and rush to get ready for the day. "I knew that would get him going." She laughed, meeting her husband's eyes.

He chuckled shaking his head. "He does have his good qualities." He looked back at John's room, catching sight of his guitar before a half-naked Bender stumbled in front of it while trying to get his pants on. "I'll bet you he could get on Star Search if we give him the chance."

Clarissa's brow furrowed, her lips parting in confusion. "In California?" She clarified.

He nodded, placing a hand on her shoulders. "They're starting casting right after school gets out, next month." There was another thud from John's room. "I think that if he doesn't kill himself in there, that he could make it."

Clarissa nodded, a huge smile spreading over her face. "I think that's a great idea."


	26. Chapter 28

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

John walked into Dick's office, his new jeans —that Mrs. Standish had insisted he wear— stiff as his joints moved and bent. "What's up, Dick?" He asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Vernon rolled his eyes, waving him inside, and showing him the report card from the last two weeks. "What's going on Bender?" He asked, obvious suspicion in his voice. "What're you trying to pull?"

John looked between the straight A's printed on the paper and back to Vernon. "Nothing Dick." He leaned back in the chair. "Can't I get a good grade once in a while?"

Vernon raised a brow, leaning forward in his seat. "You can get one good grade once in a while, but according to the past, you've never gotten a good grade in your life." He pointed to the card again. "I know you cheated on these tests, Bender."

Pure shock showed on John's face. "I didn't cheat." He stated.

"Oh, bull." Vernon pressed a button on the school speaker system. "Mrs. Quinn, come to my office." He ordered. "Now we'll prove just what a liar you are."

"I didn't lie." John countered. "Is it impossible for someone like me to be smart?"

Vernon scoffed. "Not for someone like you, but for you, yes, it is."

John pushed his rage down, forcing himself to be calm. "You ever think that maybe I got good grades because I'm not getting the shit beat out of me every day?" His lip curled, he could feel himself about to explode. "Maybe I've always been smart, but couldn't show it because I was to fucked up to come to school."

Vernon was quiet for a moment, glancing up at the door as Mrs. Quinn, and Brian Johnson walked inside. "Mrs. Quinn, I don't remember asking for Mr. Johnson."

She smiled, turning to Brian. "Brian here, told me that you were concerned about John's grades?"

Vernon nodded, handing her the report card. "He's obviously been cheating on his tests."

Mrs. Quinn, studied the card for a moment before turning to Brian. "Can you think of a few equations for John to solve?"

Brian grinned, happy that he got the chance to quiz his friend. "What's the sum of Eighteen cubed?"

Without missing a beat, John answered. "Five-thousand, eight-hundred, thirty-two."

Brian rattled off several more problems for him, hardly able to keep up with John's answers. "Okay, last one, what is twenty-six divided by the square root of Pi."

"Fourteen point six, six, eight, nine, two, nine, one, seven, two, two." He turned to Vernon, an eyebrow cocked, "You get all that?"

Vernon had his calculator out, and was still typing in the problem. "How the hell do you know this?" He asked, taking his glasses off to stare in disbelief at the boy in front of him.

"I'm smarter than you think." He turned to Brian. "What was it you wrote in that essay?"

"Um, you see us as you want to see us, in the simplest terms-"

John cut him off. "See Dick, you wanted to see me as a dumb, pothead, criminal." He leaned forward, tapping the desk with his finger. "But that's not all I am." He stood, flipping his shades over his eyes and left the room. "If you want you can make up a worksheet for me."

Vernon turned to Mrs. Quinn, shock written on his face. "So, that test you showed me last week, wasn't a fake just to get him out of trouble?"

She nodded, picking up the report card. "He's really improved since the Standish's took him in." She turned to Brian, a small smile on her face. "And since the Breakfast Club was started." She joked.

John made his way to the gym for a quick break with Andy. The ping of basket balls hitting the hardwood greeted him as he entered the room. "Yo! Sporto!" He shouted to the group of jocks, watching Andy's blond hair bob and weave between the bigger players.

Andy passed the ball to one of his buddies, jogging over to his friend. "Hey man." He panted, sweat dripping from his brow and soaking his shirt. "What's up?"

John shook his head, eyeing the other jocks. "Whose team is winning?" He asked, noticing Peter giving a noogy to one of the smaller guys. "Never mind, I'm playing against dirt-bag."

He started toward the group, pausing when one of them pushed a hand to his chest. "Not so fast Burner." He growled, ignoring Andy's glare. "What makes you think you can play with us?"

John ran his tongue over his teeth, raising his brows. "It's a free country." He stated, reaching for the ball again.

The jock pushed him back again, causing him to stumble into Andy. "Let me rephrase that." He leaned closer to his face. "You're not playing."

John looked around the room, his eyes landing on the ropes. "Tell you what, first to climb those ropes and ring the bell, gets the say who can't play and who can." He placed his foot on the blue line. "The race, starts from here, up the ropes, down, and to that wall." He pointed to the far wall, and looked back to the jock. "You pick your best guy, and it's just me verses him." He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Unless you're chicken."

Andy pulled Bender aside, pointing to his injured hand. "What're you doing?" He hissed, grabbing the taller boy's wrist. "You can't climb with this. Claire's mom will kill you."

John patted Andy's shoulder, pulling his shades from his breast pocket and handing them to the blond. "I know what I'm doing Sporto." He glanced over his shoulder at the jocks. "Look at them, they're all muscle and brawn." He pointed to himself with one thumb. "I'm light, and fast, with a brain for strategy."

"You're light because you've been starved your whole life."

John shrugged, patting his still too thin abdomen. "I'm putting on a few pounds."

Andy rolled his eyes, glancing at the babbling group of boys behind Bender. "I'm worried you haven't put on enough." He looked his friend in the eye. "If you get into a fight, I'm not gonna be able to help you as much as you think. I'm only the best wrestler, but I can't do shit against the quarterback or linebackers." He placed a hand on the top of his head. "Besides, I'm pretty short and they're all like six-five."

John smirked, digging in his pocket for the nonexistent cigarette pack. "Don't worry about it." He reached into his other pocket, pulling out one of the bare-knuckle boxing gloves that Mr. Standish had bought with the heavy bag and sliding it over his hand To help protect the stitches. "I'm not gonna get into anything."


	27. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

To John's delight, Peter was the one they picked to race him. He knew he could beat his ass in a good climb or run any day, and the fact that Mr. Standish had bought him weight set had helped build his upper body strength even more than it had been before.

John tapped his foot as he waited for Peter to tighten his shoelaces. "Come on man, I haven't got all day." He grumbled, pretending to check a nonexistent watch.

"Shut up asshole." Peter shot back, taking position at the line, like a proper athlete.

John rolled his eyes, taking a lazy stance at the line, and tossing the red bandana he usually tied around his ankle to one of the smaller guys. "Let us know when princess."

Hardly a second passed before he dropped the bandana, and they were off. Peter bolted right out of the gate, his strides long and fast. John of the other hand, took his time, running at a good pace but saving his energy for the climb. "What's wrong Pothead?" Peter called over his shoulder, as John started to fall behind. "Tired already?"

John didn't reply, instead, he kept his pace, until they reached the rope. Whereas Peter stopped at the base to catch his breath, John started right up the rope, like a monkey on a vine.

He barely used his legs, relying mostly on his arms and pecs to hold his weight, he could hear a few cheers from the crowd below him as he rang the bell and started his descent. "What's wrong Meat-head, tired already?" He smirked as he passed the bigger kid on the way down.

Peter growled, reaching out to try and grab John and push him off of his rope. "You're fucking dead Bender."

John let himself drop a few more inches, wrapping the rope tighter around his leg to slow his decent. "What's wrong?" He mocked, his dark eyes holding an unspoken insult. "Afraid you'll get beat by a burner?"

"Faggot!" Peter pushed himself up another few inches, successfully reaching the bell and starting his way down.

John cocked an ear, ignoring Andy warning him to shut up. "What's that? I couldn't hear you over the sound of your sister calling my name." He slipped out of reach of the Jock once again, just reaching the right height for him to jump without injuring himself. He dropped to the floor, tucking into a ball so that his momentum would give him a head start and not cause him to stumble. "Chicken shit!" He shouted, crossing the blue line, and reaching his hand for the wall and slamming into it.

The others stared in amazement, watching as John took a few deep breaths before sidling up to their group. "How the hell?" One of them asked, noticing how John wasn't even sweating. "How does a burner like you, get in that shape?"

John ran his tongue along the inside corner of his mouth. "You learn a lot on my side of the tracks."

Peter walked over to them, balling his fist and raising it to Bender. "Okay, you and me, one on one, down and dirty." He growled, hungry for revenge.

John rolled his eyes, blowing a breath through his nose. "Listen man, I told you before, you get into a fight with me, and I'll kill you."

Peter took a swing, just missing John's face as he dodged. "I bet you're just chicken. Afraid, because of your daddy." He swung again, clipping John's ear. "You're a lily-livered son of a bitch, who can't take a hit."

John tilted his head, his hair falling back from his eyes. "You call what you're doing a hit?" He steadied himself, leaving his body vulnerable to attack. "Show me what you got, and I'll show you a real hit."

Peter grinned, taking his best shot to Bender's sternum.

John nodded, as if he'd just gotten a nice pat on the back. "Not too bad." He turned to Andy. "You saw that right?" Andy rolled his eyes nodding a yes. "Good." John smirked, turning back to Peter. "You do realize anything I do now, is self-defense, right?" He smirked at the look on Peter's face. "You can take the hit, and retaliate, letting me waste your ass, or you can walk away." He balled his fist. "Because when I hit you, you're gonna be in so much pain, the only thing on your mind will be to fight back." An image of his worst beating came to mind, that was the only time he'd retaliated in his life, and it had only ended in him barely escaping with his life. "See, jocks like you, never learned to stand down. So, the first thing you do, is go into a fight head first not thinking about the consequences."

The room went instantly silent, as everyone was reminded of what John had survived. None of them knew how bad it had been, some of them had still thought it was a rumor until that moment.

John looked around at them. "None of that bullshit." He snapped, recognizing the sympathy. "I don't what none of that. I don't care for it. And I sure as hell don't want it from a bunch of dicks like you." He dropped his fist, starting for the door as the next bell rang.


	28. Chapter 30

**Chapter Thirty**

John slipped into shop class, waving at Brian as he headed for the welders. This time though, he opted for one of the MIG welders, elbowing a smaller kid off of the easier machine. He picked up his latest project, the rose that he'd decided to make for Claire. It was taking longer than he'd expected, since he was having to not only weld the pieces together, but forge them into shape as well. He paced a claim on the MIG, dropping his bandana on the wire-feed-box, letting everyone know that it was John Bender under the hood and leather. Even though the whole school knew about his past now, they all knew he was the toughest kid in school and no one dared to mess with him. He placed one of the petals to the stem, pulling the trigger on the feeder, sending the electrified wire and a steady flow of gas into the weld. He lost himself in the heat and buzz of electric currents flowing through the air, his mind seeing a finished product before he'd even started. He felt the steel heat under his gloved fingers as he held each petal to the last and welded it in place, he could smell the tang of molten metal, and he could've watched the green glow of light through his mask all day.

Mr. Rodgers placed a hand on John's back, catching his attention from his almost finished rose. "Mr. Standish just phoned, he'd like to speak with you for a moment." He nodded to the flower. "Good job."

John nodded, following Mr. Rodgers to his office and picking up the phone. "Hey." He spoke into the receiver, waiting for Thomas to reply.

"We won." He answered and John could hear the smile in his voice. "Clarissa and I are now your legal guardians, and your parents are incarcerated for the next five years if not more."

John nodded, one question digging in the back of his mind. "Will I have to serve any for the… you know." He twisted his fingers in the telephone cord, shifting from foot to foot. He didn't want to spend another night in the slammer, and he knew that right now that was a very liable option.

"No." Thomas said, sincerity in his voice. "Judge Morgan gave you a pass, because she saw Jacob pull the shiv." He reassured, his tone having that of a caring parent. "I'll let you get back to shop."

John nodded, handing the receiver back to Mr. Rodgers. "Thanks." He started toward the door, ready to be lost in his own world again.

"Bender," Mr. Rodgers smiled, "You're a good kid."

John nodded, disappearing into the buzz of the shop.

Brain watched as John went back to his welder, head down and his helmet tucked under one arm. Slowly, Brian made his way toward his friend, shielding his eyes as he started welding again. It took several minutes for John to notice the nerd, and when he did he was completely finished with the rose.

He flipped his helmet up, startling when he caught sight of the kid. "What the fuck man?" He clutched a hand to his racing heart. "Don't you know better than to sneak up on a guy playing with hot metal?"

"Sorry." Brian sat down on one of the stools beside the welding table. "Everything okay?" He asked, hovering a hand over the rose before picking it up.  
John shrugged, grabbing a bike chain and a few other odds and ends that he'd found in a junk yard a few days ago. "Just kinda in shock."

"What happened?" He pushed, hoping to finally break through that wall that John had built around himself. He was frustrated that he only let Claire inside, and she'd even said that she didn't feel like she was completely though yet.

"Nothing." John laid the pieces out, forming an idea and eventually something he could work with. "It doesn't matter. Everything worked out." He picked up his welder wand, lining it up where he needed the bead. "Either don't look or get a helmet." He advised before giving a short nod to drop his mask.

Brian took the signal, and returned to his previous project of making a spoon for his mom.


	29. Chapter 31

**Chapter Thirty-One**

After what seemed like years, John slid into his desk for his SSATs. The final test of the school year. He locked eyes with Brian, smirking as he saw the boy's eyes wander to the girl to John's left.

"Okay class, you will have one hour to finish the test." Mrs. Quinn announced, turning her gaze to John and winking. "If you finish early, you may go outside to the hallway to be with your friends."

John looked down at the papers in front of him, each number, letter, equation, and answer going into his mind like his blood. He took his time, making his handwriting as neat as he could with his still healing hand. After this, he only had to worry about Prom on Friday and how he was going to get to be Claire's date while playing on the stage. He blew a chunk of his hair out of his face, this silver streak catching the light like a bad memory. He glanced up at Mrs. Quinn, raising his hand as he marked off the last answer. "A Mrs. Quinn," He waited for her to look up, ignoring the snickers from the kids who still thought he had smoke between the ears. "I'm finished, may I be excused?" He smirked as the room fell silent, everyone turning back to their papers.

Mrs. Quinn smiled, motioning him forward with his paper. "Bring me your test, and you may go."

John nodded, flashing the answers to Brian as he passed his desk. "Thank you, Ma'am for a lovely class." He smiled, turning to exit the room and walking out the door.

He opened his locker, pulling out a few spare dollars he'd started keeping in the top, and counting them out. "thirty, forty, fifty, sixty." He smiled, finally having enough cash to buy the earring that Claire had given him from the pawn shop his father had sold it to. He stuffed the wad into his wallet, smiling as he started for the exit.

"Hold on there, Bender." Vernon caught him with a hand on his chest, cornering him against the wall.

"What'd I do now?" John snapped, running through the past month and a half in his head.

Vernon's gaze softened, a smile crossing his features. "You did good." He patted the boy on the back, handing him another straight A report card. "Go enjoy your day."

John's crooked smile graced his face, as he watched Richard walk away. "You too Mr. Vernon." He called down the hallway, as he exited the school.

He set a good pace that he knew he could keep up in order to get to the pawn shop and back to school in time for Claire to give him a ride. He could feel the first drops of spring rain hit his face, the sweet scent of rain filling his nose. It reminded him of a poem that he'd written a few weeks ago when the rain had first started coming and he had finally started to be content in his new home.

Petrichor

I see the thunderheads  
floating across the  
skyline like sentinels  
guarding the universe

I hear the thunder as  
it joins with the  
lightning in an ageless  
crescendo

I smell the rain mixing  
with earth - a scent  
appreciated worldwide -  
A phenomenon known as petrichor

I feel the raindrops –  
fat and cold against  
my skin as I try to  
outrun the downpour

When I was very young  
and the sky turned green,  
I carried a bowl so I  
could taste the hail

Storms are a force of nature  
to be experienced with all  
five senses – a feast  
for the soul

He tilted his face to the sky, feeling the sweet kisses of water on his cheeks. He smiled, jumping onto the railing of the bridge that led over the tracks to his part of town, steeling his nerves for the walk past his old home. He'd only been here once since the night Claire and Andy and Brian had found him, and that was only to check on one of his friends who hadn't been to school for a few days. He shuddered at the memory of what he'd found; his best friend since birth had lost his life thanks to his parents beating him like John's parents use to do to him. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. Why hadn't he done something to help Sid? Why hadn't John been dumped in that dumpster instead of Sid? Why was John still alive when he deserved to die? He'd always been the worse behaved of the two of them, so why had he been spared and Sid been murdered in cold blood because of his parents being high?

John shook his head, psyching himself up for what he might see and what he might have to do.

He slowed his pace, making himself appear tougher and bigger than he really was. A few gangsters seemed to take him into consideration, but decided he wasn't worth the trouble.

"Well, well, well," A voice that John knew all to well grated behind him, "If it isn't little Johnny boy."

John turned, flipping his hair out of his face. "What do you want Fred?" He asked, already balling his fists and preparing for the blows to come.

"Heard you got the old man thrown in the slammer and you're living with a couple of richies." The brute stepped forward, his dark hair nearly hiding his mismatched eyes. "That true?"

John curled his lip, baring one of his canine teeth. "Fuck off, Fred." He started to turn, catching himself before he was facing all the way forward. "I took you down three times a couple months ago. And this time if I take you down you won't get back up."

Fred backed off a little, pointing to John's back pocket where he kept his wallet. "Where'd the pictures go?" He asked, noticing that the pocket was considerably less stretched out.

John ignored him, reaching inside his jacket's hidden pocket, where he kept a roll of nickels. "None of your business." He handed the nickels to the thug, knowing that that would make him back off so that it would be safe to turn his back on him. "There's a bag of dope in my room, help yourself."

"Quit smoking huh?" He asked, taking the nickels as the exchange suddenly turned friendly.

John nodded. "I quit it all." He gave a little smile. "Drugs, booze, cigarettes. And I'll tell you what, I feel better than I ever did before."

Fred patted him on the back, starting toward John's old house. "Good for you kid."

John shook his head. He knew that Fred would just blow that roll of coins on drugs, but in the back of his mind, he knew that Fred wasn't the kind to get clean. He wouldn't go for the sober life, and to tell the

truth, John wasn't sure he could either.

 **Hey guys! Once again, this chapter is not 100% my own work. The lovely HMG2000 wrote this poem, and I cannot thank her enough for all she does to help me with this work! I also want to thank Dobbyandpadfoot for the encouraging comments!**


	30. Chapter 32

**Chapter Thirty-Two**

John walked into the old rundown pawn shop that he'd spent so many years inside of learning to play the guitars on his own. It was another safe house for him, it wasn't the best, but Charlie knew him pretty well, and they had even created a warning system if someone sketchy walked in.

John stepped up to the counter, the earring catching his eye right away. He knew that Charlie was working, he could smell the cigar smoke coming from the office. "Hey, Charlie!" He shouted, waiting for the bald man to show.

After a few seconds, he appeared, tucking his polyester polo shirt into his old blue jeans. "Well, I'll be damned." He took the cigar from his mouth, looking John up and down as if he'd seen a ghost. "If it isn't Johnny boy." He smiled, his Irish accent thick and rolling. "Thought you'd flown the coop for good. What brings ya back to this side a town?"

John pointed to the diamond earring. "My old man stole that off of me." He lifted his gaze. "I wanna buy it back."

Charlie nodded, pulling out the jewelry and handing it to him. "No charge." He winked. "If you got your hands on that, someone special must have given it to you." He took in John's new clothes, noticing that they weren't at baggy as his old ones had been. "Getting little filled out are ya?"

John placed the earring in his piercing, having to push it through the thin layer of healed skin on the back of his ear. "Richies feed me good." He smiled, rubbing his wrist with one hand. "Kinda miss the chaos though."

Charlie nodded, walking around the counter and picking up an old beat-up acoustic guitar. "Maybe you just need a taste of home." He handed the instrument to him. "It's been here for a couple years and no one wants it, figured I knew someone who might."

John grinned, digging out his wallet and pulling out his cash. "Here." He handed it to Charlie. "For helping me out all those years."

Charlie shook his head, a kind smiled on his face. "You're too kind, lad." He looked up at the boy before him. "Don't know how you got that heart of yours with the folks you had."

John smirked. "Guess you could say a few good friends helped me out."

Claire tapped her foot, checking her watch for the fifth time in the last minute. "Where is he?" She turned her head to look at Allison, who was standing under the same umbrella.

Allison shrugged dumping the contents of a pixie stick into her mouth. "He's John," She stated, "no one ever knows where he is."

Claire sighed, taking one of the pixie sticks from her friend. "He's never been gone this long before."

"What's wrong, burner baby?" Claire's exfriend asked, followed by her group that the Breakfast Club had dubbed the Bitch Squad. "Your burner boyfriend disappear?"

Claire glared at them, noticing a little of John's temper rising in her own chest. "Go to hell." She snapped, not noticing the tall boy who sidled up to her.

"You heard her, Bitch Squad, go back to the pit you came from." John, placed the soft guitar bag in the backseat before turning back to the girls. "Did I stutter?" He raised a brow, effectively causing them to move on. He turned back to Claire, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Sorry for being late, Sweets."

She smiled, something catching her eye. "Is that…?" She pushed his hair back, showing off the earring. "You got it back!" She launched toward him, wrapping him in a strong hug. "How did you get it?"

He chuckled, his heart jumping with her embrace. "An old friend."

She giggled, motioning for Allison to hop in the car, following closely with John climbing into the backseat to let the girls be together. "I can't believe you. Is that why you haven't been buying the school lunches?"

John nodded, patting his abdomen, the hidden ridges of his abs meeting his hand. "That and your mother feeds me way too much."

Claire rolled her eyes, looking over to Allison. "Are all boys this dumb?"

Allison nodded, laughing as she answered. "It's funny how John doesn't eat a lot, but Andy never stops eating."

They all burst out laughing at that, and for the first time John felt he truly belonged.


	31. Chapter 33

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

John stepped out of the shower, reaching for his towel and drying off his hair and body. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, noticing how his bones no longer showed through his skin, replaced by toned muscle and a healthy amount of body fat. Even the scars seemed to be fading, as if his skin was trying to start a new life just like him. He ran a hand over the hard plains of his chest, his heart beating stronger since he'd stopped smoking.

He reached for his clothes, stopping when he realized that he'd left them in his room. "Damn." He looked toward the door, knowing that he would have to walk to his room in nothing but his towel to protect his dignity. He carefully tucked the towel around his hips, making sure that it wouldn't fall while he was walking, before opening the door. He almost made it to his room without being seen, but of course Claire had to come out of her room and see him, in nothing but his towel and water dripping from his hair onto his toned shoulders. He felt his cheeks heat as Claire simply stared at him. "See something you like, Sweets?" He smirked, watching her dark eyes rake over his body.

She looked up at his face, her mouth open in shock from his transformation from a bag of bones to healthy and fit. "Shut up." She gave him a fake glare, her smile giving away her joy at seeing him this way.

He tilted his head. "Make me." He smirked, his melted chocolate eyes shining with mischief.

She stepped toward him, rolling her eyes and pretending to hate this trick he always played on her. "You're an asshole." She smiled before pressing her lips to his, tasting the mint from his toothpaste on her lips.

He poked her lips with his tongue, asking to be let inside of her mouth.

She happily complied, parting her lips so that he could feel every inch of her. She moved her tongue against his, rubbing against his teeth. She could feel the rough spot on his incisors from where he'd struck matches for his joints and cigarettes. She gasped as he retracted his tongue and took her lip between his teeth, carefully sucking on it. She played with his upper lip, feeling his five o'clock stubble on her own.

John bit a little harder, taking joy in her moan of pleasure, before slowly moving away. "That's my girl." He smiled, letting his hands drop to his towel, as he started for his room again. "I'll be out in a second."

Claire watched him leave, noticing the strong muscles in his back tighten and relax as he walked. She was startled by her mom's voice behind her.

"Glad to see him healthy." She chuckled, as Clare rushed to hide her red lips from John's teeth. "Don't worry. I won't tell dad." She winked, hugging her daughter close. "Just don't go any farther than that."

Claire nodded, smiling up at her mother. "Thanks mom."

Her mother nodded. "dinner's almost ready."


	32. Chapter 34

**Chapter Thirty-Four**

Claire unlocked her locker, pulling out a water bottle with her favorite green tea inside, turning to see the giant football player known as Stubby leaning beside her. "Hey toots," He greeted, "You dump that burner yet?"

She rolled her eyes, turning to walk away from him, but stopped when he cornered her again. "Let me go." She growled, trying to push past him.

"Oh, come on, pretty girl like you, stuck in the same house with the likes of him?" He nodded toward the picture of John inside her locker. "Bet you're sick of his kind by now. How about you take a chance on a real man, instead of a scrawny pothead like him."

He squeaked in surprise as Bender pulled him away from Claire. His trademark glare set on his face like it was carved in stone. "Don't mess with her." He spat, letting the jock push him up against the lockers , though he could've easily taken him down. He faked pain, an easy trick for him, and looked the jock right in the eye. "Go ahead." He dared, preparing to twist out of Stubby's grip and dodge the hit. "Beat me up, just like every other dick that comes into my life." That was when the hit came, John twisted, moving out of the way right as the jock's hand collided with the locker, a loud crack sounding as his fingers broke with the force.

"You little fuck head!" Stubby shouted, cradling his hand.

John shrugged, taking Claire's hand in his own. "Told you not to mess with her." He started toward the shop, just as the final bell rang. "I've got something for you." He smiled, squeezing her hand, his callouses rubbing against her smooth skin.

She shook her head. "Is it another ink bomb?" She joked, as he opened the door to the shop.

"No." He chuckled, letting go of her hand. "No ink bombs." He grabbed a small box from his pile of projects, holding it out to her. "Go ahead. Open it."

She smiled, tearing into the wrapping paper as he held the box for her. She cut the tape with the knife that John handed her, opening the top to see a beautiful polished steel rose. Each petal was carefully crafted, the time and care that went into it showing like a beacon of light. "You… you made this?" She asked, turning her eyes up to him.

He nodded digging in his pocket and pulling out a piece of paper for her. "I thought this might help you understand what's happening." He let her open the letter, closing up the box for the rose and grabbing several other wrapped boxes from his pile. "I wasn't sure how to say it out loud, so I wrote it instead."

Claire unfolded the paper, reading the clean lines of John's hand writing, tears pricking her eyes as she started to read.

How Will I Know?

Feelings swirl inside me  
like a maelstrom. Questions  
beg me for answers - one above  
all. How will I know love?

I believed my emotions to  
be absent but they were only  
dormant. Is this love I'm feeling?  
How will I know?

I'm searching for a pearl  
in wisdom's vast ocean.  
Is this love I'm feeling?  
How will I know?

Research leads to dead ends. Maybe I'll  
seek answers from glossy paged quizzes  
which soothe desperate souls. Doubt and anger  
cloud my mind. Again, I ask, how will I know?

All evidence points in one direction.  
My feelings are growing each day.  
This I see. I need to be sure.  
How will I know?

You're my center. My sun. My stars. My moon.  
My south, my north, my east and west.  
Without you I'm lost. I want to tell you but  
I need to be certain. How will I know?

"John…" She looked up at the boy before her, taking in the smudged grease on his chin and the shaggy hair that hid most of his face. "I… I had no idea."

John looked up at her, shaking his hair out of his eyes, as he finished loading his arms with the five other gifts. "I just don't understand it all." He shifted from foot to foot, trying to find the words he wanted to say. "I… need your help."

She nodded, taking a couple of the boxes from his arms. "I'll try my best." She smiled, starting for the door and out to the parking lot. "But you'll have to try too."

He looked at her, confusion on his face. "How?" He asked, letting the door close behind him.

"You'll have to let down that wall."

 **Once again, thank you HMG2000! I love your poems and all the ideas you help me with!**


	33. Chapter 35

**Chapter Thirty-Five**

John stuffed another bite of spaghetti into his mouth, slurping the noodles up and flinging tomato sauce onto his forehead.

Mrs. Standish rolled her eyes, smiling to herself as John's pig-like eating habits grew on her. She liked to see him eat, it meant he was healthy, and no matter how disgusting he looked, she knew that he was adjusting to his new life well. "John," she interrupted his meal for a moment, looking to her husband and daughter, "How would you like to audition for Star Search, in California?"

John stared at her in disbelief, noodles still hanging from his mouth. "You mean on TV?" He swallowed, his Adams Apple bouncing as he did so. "Like, with cameras, and screens, and people screaming?" He felt his heart start to race, but he wasn't sure if he was excited or afraid. He'd always wanted to play on a stage, but he'd never dreamed that he could be on TV.

Mr. Standish reached a hand toward him, unable to read this reaction like the others. "If you don't want to-"

"I want to!" John nodded, his mind made up in the space of two seconds. "Can we also go to Disney Land, and maybe the ocean?" He asked hesitantly, thinking about the miniscule list of new dreams and hopes he'd written in the back of his notebook.

The whole family smiled, happy that John finally had something to look forward to. "Of course!" Mrs. Standish laughed, turning to Claire as she looked to John and back to her.

"Can the others come too?" She asked, crossing her fingers under the table. "Brian's dad has a plane." She smiled, bouncing in her seat. "And that way no one would have to sleep in a room all alone."

John looked between her and her parents, watching how she seemed to make a puppy-dog face. He did his best to imitate her, though he felt ridiculous doing it. "Please?" He asked in his sweetest tone, feeling like one of the bums in his old neighborhood. He'd never left town, let alone go to a whole new state. His heart felt like it would beat out of his chest, the feeling of hope he'd long forgotten racing though his body.

They both nodded, and Mr. Standish tossed John a napkin. "We'll have to talk with everyone's parents, and make sure it's alright if we steal their children for a few weeks-"

"What if they come too?" Claire piped up.

Thomas looked to his wife, an unspoken question passing between them, before turning back to the kids before them. "We'll ask about that as well." He smiled, watching John scrub at the marinara sauce on his face. "Finish your dinner." He picked up his fork again, winking at John. "I heard that someone has a gift for us."

John grinned, going back to his meal. "You guys are gonna love it."

John handed two neatly wrapped boxes to Claire's parents, leaning into the chair that he'd first sat in the night Claire, Andy, and Brian had found him, letting Claire curl up on his lap. "Open them." He smiled, wrapping his hands around Claire's hips.

Clarissa looked at the two love birds in the chair, watching their eager faces. "What's the occasion?" She chuckled, starting to open the gift.

"No occasion." John shifted slightly, holding his girl closer. "It's a thank you."

Thomas's brow furrowed, as he pulled a knife out to open the box. "For what?"

"For saving me." He gave Claire a little peck on the cheek, watching her parent's faces as they pulled the pieces of art from the boxes.

"Oh! John!" Clarissa exclaimed as she pulled out the carefully crafted flower pot that had flowers welded into the metal pipe that made up the walls of the pot. "It's beautiful!"

"Holy crap!" Thomas pulled out a pair of bookends, with little rebar people reading books leaning on the sides. "You made these?" He asked in astonishment, his eyes meeting John's.

John nodded, faking a yawn to hide his prideful grin. "Yeah." He shrugged. "I made some for everyone."

"Amazing." Thomas shook his head in bewilderment. "What else do you know?"

John leaned his head on Claire's arm, obviously tired out from a full belly and a long day rehearsing for the prom. "A little here, a little there."

"Can you fix my car?"

John nodded, his hair tickling Claire's skin. "I'll look at it tomorrow." He patted her leg, signaling for her to get up. "I'm gonna go to bed right now." He started for the stairs, stopping for a moment to look at Claire. "Hey, I wanna show you what your mom bought you today." He winked at Clarissa, waiting for his girl to follow him.

She looked at her parents, before walking with John to her room.

He opened her door, showing her a beautiful blue dress. "Will you be my prom date?" He asked, his tired eyes watching over her as she circled the dress.

"Yes!" She smiled, leaping toward him and pressing a kiss to his mouth. "Yes, I will."

John kissed her nose, tiredly before stepping into his room. "See you in the morning, Sweets."


	34. Chapter 36

**Chapter Thirty-Six**

John popped the hood on Thomas's BMW, taking a wrench from the older man's hand and loosening a few nuts and bolts. He looked down at what Thomas thought was just grease and knobs and plastic.

John on the other hand, knew exactly what he was looking at, he reached for the battery, and without hesitation licked his fingers and touched the electrodes. "Battery's going out." He stated, disappearing into the garage and coming back a second later with an old longboard, which he proceeded to then lay down on and roll under the car. "give me the three-millimeter ratchet." He held his hand out from under the car, taking the tool from the lawyer.

The next thing Thomas knew, he heard something shift, and John muttering to himself. "What's wrong?" He asked, watching the boy's legs shift and move as he twisted around attempting to fix the car.

"You need a new transmission." He grunted, rolling out from under the vehicle. "When was the last time you put transmission fluid in this?" He asked, wiping his hands on his pants to get some of the oil off of them. "It's about ready to seize up on you." He scratched his nose, not caring about the black smudge that was left. "You also need an oil change, and new air and oil filters."

Thomas looked at the car, it was only six months old. How could it have that many problems? "How much do you think the mechanic will charge me?"

John thought for a moment before answering. "A mechanic would probably run you a few hundred to a couple grand." He turned to Thomas. "I can fix it if you buy the filters, transmission fluid, and some oil." He placed his hands on his hips, thinking for a moment. "I can get you a good transmission for free."

Thomas looked at the kid, confusion written on his face? "How?"

John gave a cocky smirk, turning to the lawyer again. "I have my ways." He looked back to the car. "You've got an M10 engine, with a ZF 3HP22 automatic transmission." He rocked back on his heels, pursing his lips as he did so. "I got a buddy that has one of these in his junk yard. It was in a head-on a couple weeks ago, but the trans is still good."

Thomas looked at him in astonishment, his eyes so wide that they looked about ready to pop out of his head. "How do you know all this?" He asked, amazed that this kid knew so much about everything.

John shrugged, chewing on his lip. "Used to hang out at a mechanic shop. Kenny, taught me a lot since I was always getting into trouble, with drugs and fights. He figured that if I was learning instead of getting high, I'd start making something of myself." He rubbed his chin, black grease leaving a go-tee on his face. "He let me take on some smaller jobs after a while, he'd pay me a few bucks here and there. It wasn't ever enough for a big batch of high though."

Thomas laid a hand on John's shoulder. "Were there any other substances you used?" He questioned, hoping to learn his full addictive history.

John dropped his gaze, popping his knuckles. "Well, you know about the pot and Ketamine." He thought for a moment trying to decide if he should go into more. "I used a little Oxycodone for pain, a little bit of shrooms for the hell of it." He stuffed his hands into his pockets. "And I took a hit of, um…" He took a breath, this was the one he hated to admit to the most, "heroin, once."

Thomas nodded, glancing at John's bare arms, noticing the little pock mark where the syringe and entered his vein. "Just once?" He pressed, praying that John would say it was only the one time.

John nodded, remembering the incredible high he'd gotten. "I only had the one chance. After that hit, my dad fucked me up so bad it took me almost a month to get to feeling good enough to walk." He flexed his leg. "That's when he busted my leg."

Thomas furrowed his brow. "And you set it yourself?"

John nodded, unable to speak.

Thomas nodded, starting for the house, with John following closely.

"Hey! Tommy!" Called the next-door neighbor as he pulled on his Labrador's leash, attempting to keep it away from the rough kid that they'd taken in. He walked up to his friend, letting him pet the black beast. "You still taking care of that trouble maker?" He asked, nodding to John. "You're not worried about him and your daughter?"

Thomas shook his head, watching John lean against the garage attempting to calm himself down. "He's a good kid." He smiled, turning back to his friend. "Just got the short end of the stick."

The neighbor, whose name was Mathew, loosened his grip on the leash slightly, letting the dog wander a little farther. "Looks to me like he got the end of it." He lunged for his dog, who had taken the opportunity to escape his master's hold, and run to John. "Remington!" He shouted, chasing after his prize-winning bird dog.

John knelt down as the dog neared him, letting it collide with him and lick his face. "Hey bud." He chuckled, picking up the leash. "How're you?" He asked, scratching the dog's ears. He raised his eyes to Mathew and Thomas, taking in the shocked looks on their faces. "What?" He asked, moving his hand to scratch the dog's chest.

"Well, he's usually shyer than that." Mathew took the leash from John's hand, shaking his head as the young mechanic.

Thomas chuckled, patting John on the back. "Guess it's true that dogs can tell a good person from a bad one." He smiled.

John rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, looking down at his ruined jeans. "I'm gonna get cleaned up." He pointed to the house. "Clarissa wants me to look presentable for prom."


	35. Chapter 37

**Chapter Thirty-Seven**

Mrs. Standish tied the knot in John's tie, that she knew he would ditch as soon as he got on the stage for prom. "Sit still." She chuckled, grabbing a jar of her husband's hair gel and smearing it over her hands. "You're just a bundle of nerves tonight, aren't you?" She slicked his hair back, the gray streak showing more prominently now that his hair was clean and styled.

He looked up at her with only his eyes, making him look like a pouting two-year-old. "You don't think Claire will mind that I can't dance with her?" He wrinkled his nose as the smell of the gel got to him.

She tilted his chin up to look at her, a motherly smile on her lips. "I'll bet she'll find a way to be with you."

He nodded, rubbing at the baby smooth skin of his freshly shaved jaw. "I feel like such a dope." He stated, letting Mrs. Standish pin a white rose to his lapel.

"You're not a dope." She motioned for him to stand, handing him the corsage that she'd helped him pick out. "You just care and don't know to handle it."

Claire opened her door, her figure showing perfectly in her silk dress, the light playing over her curves like the patters the sun made on water. Her hair was perfectly curled and styled, her lips were painted a rosy pink, and her lashes had a thin layer of mascara on them, but other than that she looked like Claire, his Claire.

She met his gaze, and John's breath left him like a flock of birds. She was beautiful. His heart skipped, and his mouth suddenly went dry. He wasn't sure what was happening to him, but he did know that Claire was what caused it. He'd spent weeks attempting to find out what love was, but now, he couldn't help but think that this was it. "Wow…" He breathed, holding his hand out to Claire. "You look… wow…"

She smiled, happy that she'd shocked the ever-talking John Bender into silence. "You look wow too." She rubbed a hand over his jaw, reminded of his father's cruel face. How was it that a man like that, could make a child like John? John may have the same nose and jaw as his father, but he was the exact opposite of the man he'd come from. He was sweet and kind, his heart was pure, even if he didn't know how to control it. Her fingers brushed over an old scar that was so faded it could go unnoticed if you didn't know where it was.

His eyes closed, letting her feel over his skin, bearing every scar and flaw to her, every trial he'd faced, and every battle he'd won. "I love you." He whispered, the words ringing true in his ears. He knew what love was now, he knew that he loved her, and that there could never be anyone else.

Tears pricked at Claire's eyes, threatening to ruin her mascara. "I love you." She kissed him, ignoring the camera flash from her mom's polaroid.


	36. Chapter 38

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Thomas patted John on the back, raising an eyebrow to him as they left the house. "be back by ten, and no fooling around." He warned, laughing at the hurt that John faked.

"Sir, I'm shocked that you would think such a thing of me." He smirked, opening the car door for Claire before jogging around to the other side of the vehicle. "Don't worry Tom. I'll keep her safe."

John plugged his guitar into the amp that the school had supplied for him, testing the volume as the first few couples entered the gym. He loosened his fingers up, hoping to shake out some of his nerves. God, he needed a drink. He watched as Claire nibbled on a cookie at the snack table, shaking his head as she dropped a crumb into her cleavage and attempted to dig it out without anyone noticing. He helped her out by starting into the first song of the night, strumming a loud chord to distract the growing crowd of teens. "Whose ready to rock?" He asked, leaning into the mic, and smiling at the cheer that erupted from most of the crowd. He didn't miss the queen of the Bitch Squad flipping him off though. "Alright!" He launched into the lyrics of one of his favorite songs of all time. "It was late at night on the open road,

Speeding like a man on the run," He shook the memory of he and Sid, sitting in an ally and listening to the song for the first time, out of his head, "A lifetime spent preparing for the journey; He is closer now and the search is on, Reading from a map in the mind, Yes there's the ragged hill, And there's the boat on the river. And when the rain came down, He heard a wild dog howl,There were voices in the night, "Don't do it!" Voices out of sight, "Don't do it! Too many men have failed before, Whatever you do," He took a short breath, preparing for the next verse. "Don't pay the ferryman, Don't even fix a price, Don't pay the ferryman, Until he gets you to the other side" In the rolling mist, then he gets on board, Now there'll be no turning back, Beware that hooded old man at the rudder, And then the lightning flashed, and the thunder roared, And people calling out his name ,And dancing bones that jabbered and a-moaned On the water." He licked his lips, wetting them for the end. "And then the ferryman said, "There is trouble ahead, So you must pay me now, " "Don't do it!" "You must pay me now, " "Don't do it!" And still that voice came from beyond, "Whatever you do, don't pay the ferryman, Don't even fix a price, Don't pay the ferryman, Until he gets you to the other side." He looked over the crowd, catching the eye of Vernon, a surprised look on the older man's face as he nodded at John's talent.

"Alright, next up, is an oldy but a goodie." He strummed the opening, leaning into the mic. "Jesus Left Chicago." With that he started into the lyrics, noticing Claire move toward him.

She jumped on stage, starting to sway and dance to his music, beckoning him to do the same.

He smiled, matching her movements with his own while playing every chord correctly. "Took a jump through Mississippi Well, muddy water turned to wine Took a jump through Mississippi Muddy water turned to wine Yeah, yeah Then out to California through the forests and the pines Ah, take me with you, Jesus." He started the guitar solo, jumping into a full dance with Claire. He even got a little moonwalk in there before he had to get back to the mic.

John tipped a glass of water to his lips, sipping on the drink that Claire had brought him when she'd noticed that his voice was getting rough. "Alright, this next song is supposed to be a duet, but it's just me tonight." He picked up his acoustic guitar, playing a couple strings before the first lyrics left his throat. "We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout, We've been talkin' 'bout Jackson, ever since the fire went out. I'm goin' to Jackson, I'm gonna mess around, Yeah, I'm goin' to Jackson, Look out Jackson town." He heard something move to his left, turning to see his girl with the extra mic in her delicate hand.

She smiled, her voice like a breath of spring air, as she sang the lyrics into the microphone. "Well, go on down to Jackson; go ahead and wreck your health. Go play your hand you big-talkin' man, make a big fool of yourself. Yeah, go to Jackson; go comb your hair!"

John jumped in with his vocals. "Honey, I'm gonna snowball Jackson."

She finished her verse. "See if I care."

He smirked, playing another round of chords, before he started the next verse. "When I breeze into that city, people gonna stoop and bow."

Without missing a beat, Claire hit the backup vocals for him. "Hah!"

John attempted to ignore her, but couldn't hide his smile. "All them women gonna make me, teach 'em what they don't know how, I'm goin' to Jackson, you turn-a loose-a my coat. 'Cause I'm goin' to Jackson.

""Goodbye, " that's all she wrote." Claire piped in.

The crowd all started to dance, as Claire and John's voices melted together. John's grit and gravel mixing with the airy tones of Claire's vocals and the twang of the old beat-up guitar.

He took another sip of water, leaning over to Claire. "You got some pipes there, Cherry." He grinned, wiping a little bit of sweat from his brow. "You're not too bad, June." He smirked, knowing the comment that would come next.

"Not bad yourself Mr. Cash." She giggled, watching as most of the students started to file out of the prom their curfews coming to an end.

John started to pack his stuff up, taking the cup of punch that Brian handed him.

"That was great!" Brian congratulated, patting John on the back. "I didn't know you could sing Claire."

She shrugged, watching John down the punch in one go after taking a sip. "I guess I never really thought about it."

John looked down at the bowl of punch on the snack table, knowing that familiar taste in the drink. His mind told him to get more, to get that buzz he'd missed for so long, but the part of his brain that had gotten him sober in the first place told him to ignore the craving. He went back and forth for a moment, before standing to take his stuff to the car. "I'll be back in a minute." He smiled, kissing Claire as he started for the door, passing the punch bowl to get another drink.

vodka. That's what it was. It wasn't the cheap shit either, this was the high-quality stuff. The kind that only one-person John knew could get. He slipped his stuff into the back of Claire's car, then headed for 'the spot' a little strip of pavement that no one dared to go because it was 'burner territory.' "Luke." He called out to his old friend following the scent of booze and pot. "What's up man?"

The blond looked up at him, smiling when he recognized his old smoking buddy. "Hey, it's Johnny!" He clapped him on the back as John took a seat on the curb. "Wanna hit man?" He asked, offering him a half smoked joint.

John shook his head, though he was craving anything he could get a buzz off of. "Nah. Just give me a drink." He reached for the bottle, tipping it to his lips and downing several large mouthfuls before coming up for air. The alcohol stung his throat, but he could already feel his stress melting away. "Damn man." He pounded a fist to his chest as the burning faded. "That's the good shit." He chuckled handing the bottle back to Luke.

Luke nodded, taking another swig before handing it back to John. "Thought you got clean." He slurred.

"I was." John downed another huge mouthful, the drink starting to take effect on him already. "Just needed a couple drinks." He stood, hearing the rest of the Breakfast Club shouting for him. "Thanks man." He nodded, his feet becoming clumsy as he ran toward his friends. "Over here guys!" He waved to his friends, starting to trip over his own feet and stumbling right into Andy and Allison.

Andy righted his friend, sniffing as the scent of booze escaped Bender with each breath he took. "He's hammered." He turned to Claire, moving to support the taller boy's weight. He turned to Brian, remembering the punch he'd given John. "Did you try the punch before you gave it to him?"

John started toward the car, waving a hand when Allison tried to help. "I'm fine." He slurred, nearly taking Andy down when he tripped.

Brian dropped his head, ashamed of what he'd caused. "I didn't know that it had alcohol in it."

Claire nodded, opening the passenger door for John. "Someone must've spiked it."

She whirled when she heard Jessica's voice behind her. "Looks like someone can't stick to something good for very long." She smiled, stepping toward the group. "I'll bet he got high with the burners. Who knows, maybe he even fucked a couple of them."

Claire balled her fists, staring Jessica down. "It was you?" She snapped, stepping toward the queen bitch. "How dare you spike that punch!"

"Now Claire, I wasn't the one to give him the whole bottle." She pointed to Burner Territory. "I only gave it to that poor slob over there." She pointed to John. "He's the one who went looking for more."

Claire snapped, throwing a wild punch at her, hitting her cheek with such force that one of her acrylic nails broke. "You knew that would happen!" She screamed, hiding her bleeding nail. "You're a fucking bitch!"

Jessica held her cheek, a thin line of blood trickling from her face. "You're a stupid whore!" She screamed, eliciting a small reaction from John.

"Don't call my baby a whore." He slurred as Claire slipped into the driver's seat.

"Shut up, John." She hissed, letting Andy close Bender's door before taking off for home.


	37. Chapter 39

**Chapter Thirty-Nine**

Claire stumbled through the front door, a nauseous Bender hanging onto her for stability. "I swear, if you throw up on me, I will kill you."

John gaged, feeling the vomit rising. "Bathroom." He croaked, rushing with Claire to the toilet to empty his gut.

He felt Claire brushing stray hairs from his forehead, her free hand rubbing little circles on his back. "Mom's gonna kill you." She sighed, right as her mother opened the bathroom door.

"Everything okay in here?" She wrinkled her nose as the smell of vodka and vomit stung her nose. "Oh my…" She grabbed a washcloth, wet it, and held it to John's sweating brow. "What happened?" She asked, lifting her head to look at her daughter as John wretched again.

Claire looked down at her knucklehead of a boyfriend. "Jessica spiked the punch." She took the washcloth from her mother, holding it to John's head when he came up for air.

Her mother shook her head, a glare setting on her face. "That bitch." He growled, flushing the contents of John's stomach before he puked again. "I never liked her."

Claire nodded, slipping John's arms out of his tux, hoping to save it from the vomit and sweat that was pouring from John's body. "He's gonna have to start over, isn't he?" She hated thinking about his struggle to get sober, his temper always seemed to get worse after he was sober for a while.

Clarissa nodded, wiping John's chin off with some toilet paper. "I wish he didn't have go through this." She let John lean into her body, wrapping her arms around his exhausted form.

"Sorry." He whimpered, his body shaking with the alcohol and muscle strain from throwing up.

The girls rubbed his shoulders, trying to comfort him. "I know, baby." Clarissa soothed, slowly lifting him to his feet. "Let's get you to bed."

Claire took his hand, walking with them upstairs. She opened his bedroom door, pulled his bed sheets back and helped him lay down. "Why're you putting him on his side?" She asked her mother, noticing how she placed a wall of pillows along his back and stomach.

"So that he doesn't drown if he throws up in his sleep." She shut his light off as she exited the room. "I wish he hadn't had to live through what he did."

Claire nodded, hugging her mom letting a few tears escape her eyes. "I hate this." She cried. "I hate that he has to deal with this. I hate that Jessica did this to him."

Her mother pulled her away for a moment, the words she spoke hitting her heart like a knife. "He did it to himself." She stated, looking her daughter in the eye. "He's the one who drank the punch and decided to drink more even when he knew that it was spiked."

Claire nodded, turning to face her Dad as he walked down the hallway. "What's wrong?" He asked, glancing into John's room.

Clarissa let her daughter go to her room before telling her husband. "Jessica spiked the punch and John relapsed."

Thomas started for the phone, dialing Jessica's parent's phone number. "Hello, this is Thomas Standish." He paused as the person on the other end spoke. "I'd actually like to bring it to your attention, that your daughter seems to have spiked the punch at the dance tonight." He stopped again waiting for them to finish. "Well, you see, the child we took in a couple months ago, drank quite a lot of it, and is now so drunk that he's incapacitated." He paused again. "Mrs. Jenkins, I would appreciate if you not use that language with me." He took a frustrated breath. "He is not a bad influence on my daughter or yours." His voice started to rise. "Just because he comes from an addictive family, does not make him a drunk." His face started to turn red. "I think it is your daughter who needs to be punished, not ours. Goodbye Katlyn." With that, he slammed the phone down, hoping that Jessica's mother hadn't hung up yet. "I swear to God." He turned to his wife, his rare temper fading. "That woman is the spawn of Satan himself."

There was a harsh cough from John's room, the bark that always came after he sang too long mixed with the roughness from the vodka burning his already raw throat.

Clarissa turned to her husband. "Poor baby."

He nodded, closing John's door. "I just wish that he would learn." He remembered the pock mark on the boy's arm, sighing at the long road ahead of him. "We'll have to help him more."

His wife gave him a sad look. "It's up to him for the most part." She could remember watching her own mother go through the AA program, knowing how hard it would be for a kid. "It'll be a lifelong battle for him, and we're not always going to be there." She hated to admit it, but it was true. "He has to decide to clean up on his own."


	38. Chapter 40

**Chapter Forty**

John woke with a splitting headache, everything hurt. He slowly opened his eyes, groaning as an icepick was drilled into his skull. At least that's what it felt like to him. Slowly he pushed himself out of bed, looking down at the rumpled white tux. He rubbed a hand through his hair, feeling the sticky gel that Clarissa had used to slick it back. "Oh man…" He moaned, opening his door to the smell of bacon and eggs frying in a pan. "I really fucked up." He felt like death, but out of habit he pushed through, walking down the stairs and into the dining room with the rest of the family.

"Good morning." Smiled Mrs. Standish, placing a cup of black coffee in front of him with an Advil.

"How're you feeling?" Claire asked, taking in the dark circles under his eyes and the pail tone of his usually beautifully tan skin.

He took a big gulp of his coffee, swallowing the Advil with it. "Like I was dragged through hell behind a horse." He took a look at Claire's shirt, and if he was correct, that was one of his. "Is that my AC/DC?"

She looked down at the oversized shirt. "Maybe." She smirked, holding out a forkful of eggs to him. "Is that my earring?"

He took the fork, downing the eggs with another swig of coffee. "Maybe." He grunted, looking at the clock on the wall above the door. "Shit. I told Kenny I'd be at the yard ten minutes ago." He finished his coffee, starting for the door.

"Oh no you don't!" Mrs. Standish stopped him, pointing to his white tux. "Go change into those nasty old things you ruined yesterday."

He rolled his eyes, but didn't fight back like he normally would have. "Yes ma'am." He clomped his way up the stairs, unbuttoning his shirt as he did so.

Claire listened to the floorboards creak as he changed into what he called real clothes. "You think he'll ever get better?" She asked, turning to her mother.

"I hope so." Clarissa sighed.

"I can't believe he did that." Claire huffed, as John thundered down the stairs and out the door.

"You need to forgive him." Clarissa placed a hand on her shoulder. "He made a mistake, we all do, but that's only human nature."

"He's just an ass." Claire took her plate to the sink, thinking about John's punching bag in the garage and how he used it to take out anger. "I'm gonna go for a walk." She stated, pulling on her tennis shoes and out the back door.

John wandered through the piles of what most people deemed junk, until he came across the wrecked hull of the BMW he was looking for. He dropped the little cart that held his tools crawling under the vehicle after he jacked it up just enough to be able to drag the transmission out from under the body.

He slipped the ratchet onto each nut, pulling one after the other out of the engine block, and loosening the part. Finally, the last bolt slipped free, the huge gear box shifting to the point that John could pull it out and load it onto the cart he'd hauled down there. He whipped the sweat from his brow, the summer heat starting to get to him already. "God, I hope that California doesn't get too much hotter than this." He muttered as he started the walk back to where he'd parked Claire's car.

John loaded the transmission onto the tarp he'd laid down in Claire's trunk. "Thanks Kenny." He smiled at his friend, wiping his hands down with a rag. "You're a saint."

Kenny laughed, ignoring the kid's bloody hand. "Not as much as you kid." He patted his back. "I swear you've died a hundred times and still manage to keep breathing." He shook his head, not knowing how this kid had stayed alive as long as he had. "Keep outta your old stomping grounds." He advised. "Heard there was a murder of a kid your age a few weeks ago."

John worked his jaw, fighting back the hate at the mention of Sid's death. "I know." He stated. "Mr. Standish asked me if I could ID the body." His hand found its way into his pocket, the smooth surface of the silver dollar he'd carried since The Pact, running over his fingertips.

"You got an idea of who it might be?" Kenny pushed, watching as John closed the trunk of the car.

John shrugged. "Never know who it might be on that side." He walked toward the driver's side door. Nodding a goodbye to Kenny before getting in and driving back to the Standish house.


	39. Chapter 41

**Chapter Forty-One**

John stepped inside of the house, looking up at the family and his friends standing in the living room. "No." He stated, starting for the stairs. "I'm not getting into some dumbass intervention."

He stopped when Allison's quiet voice spoke behind him. "We just want to make sure you're okay."

He turned, meeting the faces of all of them. "Fine." He sat beside Claire, that is, until she moved away from him. "Look, I'm fine. I gave in and had a few drinks. I didn't do any drugs, no pot, no Oxy, no Special K." He looked at the confused face that Brian was giving him. "Yes, I did more than one form of high." He looked over at Claire, his heart breaking a little when she looked away. "I never meant to hurt anyone I did, but if I hurt any of you, you'll have to remind me. Because all I recall is singing, punch, and puking my guts out in Claire's toilet."

Claire turned a furious glare on him. "You ruined my prom." She snapped, not caring if she hurt him. "You were supposed to sing play your guitar, and dance with me when you could." She pointed an accusing finger at him. "You were never supposed to relapse."

Thomas held a hand out to calm her down. "Johnathan, I think what she's trying to say, is that we're all worried for you." He opened a little scrap of paper, sliding it across the coffee table to him. "Do you remember when you first came here, and decided to get sober, that we had you write down this list of things you wanted to happen when you stopped drinking and using?"

John nodded, looking at his own handwriting. "They're… the first goals I ever thought of." He looked up at his friends and Claire's parents. "I… I don't want to be like them." He took in the disappointed looks of Tom and Clarissa. "I didn't want to cause the same pain… to anyone else." He placed the paper on the table, his head falling into his hands. "I'm sorry."

Allison placed a hand on his back, ignoring the dirt and grease that stained his clothes. "Do you still want to be sober?" She asked, looking over to Andy and Brian when he didn't answer for a minute.

"I'm here for you man," he looked to everyone in the group, "We all are."

John nodded, lifting his head to look them all in the eye. "I want to get clean." He locked eyes with Claire, showing that he meant it. "I want to be sober." He turned to Brian, who'd been extremely quiet through the whole exchange. "Brian," he waited for Brians full attention, "it wasn't you fault. I'm the one who kept drinking."

Brian nodded, as if trying to accept that fact. "I should have made sure it wasn't spiked."

John bit his lip, tasting the little scab from where he'd bumped it on the microphone last night. "It's not your job to take care of me." His gaze slid over to Mrs. Standish. "I have to learn to take care of myself."

They all nodded, silence falling over them, the weight of John's words weighing on them all.

Finally, Brian piped up. "If you need help, we're here for you."

The others all agreed, except for Claire.

John watched his girl for a moment, knowing that he had to say more. "I promise, I'll get clean and stay that way this time." He pulled his bandana off of his foot. "I swear it on my blood rag." He slammed it down on the table, and for the first time, everyone noticed the darker red splotches on the fabric. Years of blood layering itself over the rag. "It's just as good as swearing on my blood without it being fresh."

Andy and Brian chuckled, effectively lightening the mood. "You're one screwed up guy aren't you Bender?" Andy asked, taking a pixie stick from Allison.

"You don't know the half of it." John smiled, standing to go change his clothes. "I'll be back in a minute."


	40. Chapter 42

**Chapter Forty-Two**

John pulled an oil pan under the car with him, locating the plug in a matter of seconds and draining the oil into the plastic pan. "Holy shit." He looked at the jet-black oil, draining down beside his face. "Tom, when was the last time you changed this?" He asked, wiping the oil that had spilled on his hand onto his shirt front. "It's like pitch black."

Thomas looked down through a hole between the engine block and the car's body. "I haven't changed it yet. I bought it brand new."

John wriggled around until he could look at Thomas's face through the gap. "How many miles?" He asked, pointing to where the cab was.

Thomas opened the door, checking the mileage. "twenty-thousand."

John picked up the homemade wrench he'd fashioned specifically for the point of changing oil filters. "You're supposed to change it every six thousand if it's the real stuff —ten if it's the synthetic." He grunted as the filter came loose, the last of the black shit dripping onto his hands and chest. "What brand did you get?" He asked, pouring the rest of the oil in the filter into the pan. "And did you get the 10w60 weight?"

Thomas looked down at the silver Marathon oil jug beside him. "Marathon, and yes, it's the weight you told me."

John reached a hand out from under the vehicle. "Filter." He grabbed the box as Thomas handed it to him, opening it and lining it up with the hole it went in. "That's exactly what you need for it." He twisted the filter into place, going only as far as he could with his hands. "Tell you what, this is a lot easier than that damn Transmission." He wriggled out from under the car, bumping his head on the bumper. "Shit." He cursed, holding the red spot. "Hate it when I do that."

Thomas shook his head. "Do all mechanics have to curse as much as you?"

John moved his head from side to side. "It's a part of the process." He took the oil jug from Thomas, twisting the cap off and pouring it into the oil compartment. "Alright, turn it over and let it run for a minute, then we'll take it for a ride and get her blood pumping again."

Thomas chuckled, looking at the tall kid by his side. "You've got to be a genius."

John shrugged. "Only with things that make sense." He tuned to the redheaded man. "Whereas your daughter turns me into a complete idiot."

Thomas laughed then, patting the boy in his back. "They all do that, son." He winked at him. "It's what happens when the fairer sex is around. We always turn into babbling puddles of goo."

John shook his head. "Cars are so much easier."

"Only if it's you, kid." He looked at John's calloused hands, working man's hands. "I'm a lawyer, not a blue-collar worker." He motioned to the cracks in the thick skin of John's fingers. "My father used to call those a working man's hands," He showed him his soft hands, "He called mine sissy boy hands. And if you ask me, I think you have the makings of a good provider. You work hard, and Claire tells me you protect her at school and when you're on the streets." He cracked a smile at John's little smirk. "I can't thank you enough for keeping her safe." He handed John a hundred-dollar bill. "And fixing up my car."


	41. Chapter 43

**Chapter Forty-Three**

John waited for Claire by her bedroom door, he had to talk to her. Apologize for what he'd done last night.

She turned the corner in the hallway, stopping when she saw him at her door. "What do you want?"

He pushed himself away from her doorframe, letting his limp show a little since his leg was sore from crawling under cars all day. "I wanted to talk." He stated, reaching out to her.

"Get away from me you douchebag." She snapped, shoving him back. "I don't want to talk to you."

He stepped back, feeling his temper start to bubble in his gut. "I just wanted-"

"I don't care what you want!" She pushed past him. "You ruin everything you touch, and I hate you for it." She slammed her door in his face, leaving him somewhere between pissed off, and cut to the core.

He balled his fists, pacing over the carpeted floor, until he couldn't take it anymore. He bolted down the stairs, stripping his shirt off as he entered the garage. He tossed it onto the bench by the wall, stepping toward the red heavy bag before him. He didn't bother with his gloves, not caring how screwed up his knuckles would be after a few hits.

He lit into the bag, grunting with every hit he made. He punched it until his muscles burned, and punched it some more, his knuckles were cracked and bleeding, his wrists ached, his shoulders felt like they were being assaulted with a jackhammer, but he pressed on.

He worked so hard that eventually his body decided to empty itself, making him vomit into one of the buckets he found. He didn't stop even after that, he pushed though, his body tiring with every bead of sweat that dripped down his body.

He didn't hear the door open, or the footsteps on the concrete steps, he didn't know that someone was there, until she spoke. "John?"

He took a few harsh breaths, blowing the sweat from his upper lip, turning to look at the girl before him. "Thought you didn't want to talk to me." He dropped his bloody knuckles, ignoring the bruises that would be aching like hell tomorrow.

Claire dropped her gaze, ashamed of what she'd said. "It's almost midnight." She whispered, looking up to glance at his sweating back. "And I couldn't sleep after what I said."

John turned to her then, his chest heaving with every breath he took. "I was just trying to fix it." He walked over to her, taking her hand in his. "That's what I do. I fix things." He let her turn his hand over to examine his beaten-up knuckles. "I screw them up and then try to fix what I did."

She tenderly touched his fingers, pulling away when he hissed in pain. "You did this because of me?" She asked, her midnight eyes meeting his.

He shook his head. "I was pissed at myself." He let her take his other hand in hers. "Just… I felt like… I don't know. Like, I needed to be punished for what I did."

She wrapped her arms around his torso, tears mixing with the sweat on his skin. "John…" She cried, feeling his arms around her back. "Don't do that." Her fingers traced over a jagged scar along his hips, wondering what that one had been.

He rested his chin on her hair, her scent reaching his nose like a wave of pleasure. "Let's get you to bed." He picked her up, his arms shaking from his workout. "You've got church tomorrow."

"Will you come with?" She asked, leaning her head on his shoulder.

He ran his tongue over his salt covered lips, tasting the sweat as he thought. "If you want me too." He started up the stairs, his bare feet quiet against the carpet. "But if anyone tries to 'save' me, I won't go again." He turned into her room, laying her in the thick blankets and pulling them to her shoulders. "Goodnight, Cherry." He kissed her forehead, happy that they'd made up.

She snuggled into her pillows, sleep closing in on her. "Goodnight."

John smiled, closing her door before going to his own room. He picked up his notebook and pen, flipping to a blank page and starting to write.

The Path

My path is narrow.  
I count my steps  
as demons whisper  
taunts and temptation

Anger and despair  
felt in equal measure.  
I hurt those that care...  
There's no easy exit.

With each bend,  
I'm faced with mistakes  
from my past. Obstacles  
placed in my way

Strength drawn from deep  
inside. This is a battle I need  
to win. The prize... My life and  
my hopes and dreams.

One mistake and I'm back at the  
beginning. I look at the  
devastated land, the scenes of past  
mistakes, and take the first step.

John sighed, letting his peace finally wash over him. He leaned his head back against the wall, letting a long breath out. He thought of Sid, how they'd had the same struggles in life, thinking of another poem he had to write.

A Life Lost, Justice Coming

A life lived on the wrong side  
of the tracks, a bright spot for  
each other. A life ended in the  
trash with society's broken dreams.

Two sides of the same coin, one side  
forever blackened and a hole left in the  
lives and hearts of those who cared.  
Your journey is finished old friend.

I hope you now feel safe, now they can  
no longer hurt you. Please forgive me  
for not being there to help. It seems not  
enough to only say goodbye.

Society frowned and turned a blind eye.  
Denial was their friend. I'm ashamed to say  
that I didn't realize our time was short -  
too caught up in my own hell.

When justice comes looking, I'll tell your story.  
I'll tell the world. Silence is their ally and weapon.  
So I'll shout it, loud and true, to the world. It may  
be too late, but their time is coming.

He ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, pushing whatever he was feeling to bottom of his stomach, letting it rest for the time being. He couldn't let Sid's death affect him this way, they'd both known that they would die young. That's what they'd thought anyway. John thought about their lives, sitting in allies smoking and popping pills to manage any pain they had, how they'd stolen a car to get out of the hood for a while, how they'd wrecked it because they were drunk and high off their asses. He remembered how they'd talked about death like it was an old friend, and listened to 'Don't Pay the Ferryman' and made the pact to wait for each other once they reached the afterlife, keeping a coin in their pockets to pay the ferryman after he'd delivered them to the other side. He touched the coin, dreading having to ID Sid's body. He hated to think about what they'd done to him. John was the only one he'd ever told about the kind of funeral he wanted, and in turn John had done the same. They'd sworn to do their best to make it happen, but John had left his body for the buzzards. What kind of friend was he? Part of him wanted to die in that moment, but the other part told him that Sid needed his memory to be carried on passed the grave.

He picked up his guitar, strumming the first notes to the song that had impacted them both so much, the song bubbling in his throat as the house slept.

He fell into a fitful sleep, his hand on his guitar, as he dreamed of he and Sid's adventures.

 **Again, not all my work. Thank you HMG2000! You're amazing and I love your poems!**


	42. Chapter 44

**Chapter Forty-Four**

John slowly opened his eyes, the first thing he saw being his guitar. He swallowed the lump in his throat, he knew that Thomas had the pictures of Sid's body in his office.

The lawyer had given him far warning before he got the pictures from the developer's office. He hadn't wanted to spring anything on John, especially a murder that had resemblances to an abuse case.

John could hear the family outside of his room, getting ready for church. He rolled over in his bed, his body protesting the movement. His tried to bend his fingers, but gasped at the pain it caused, letting his hand shoot back to a relaxed position. "Ugh…" He groaned, looking down at the battered flesh of his hands. "Fuck." He hissed as there was a knock on his door. "Go away." He growled, right before he was pounced on by Claire.

"Good morning!" She laughed, ignoring the grunt of pain that escaped the boy under her. "Ready for church?"

John gasped for air, attempting to push her off with his aching hands. "Off!" He sighed in relief when she rolled onto the mattress beside him. "Can't it be canceled?" He turned to look at her, drinking her in like sunshine.

She kissed his nose, her lips soft against his skin. "You promised." She fluttered her Bambi-like eyelashes at him, her lower lip pouting out with her puppy-dog look.

He sighed, rolling his head across the pillow and staring at he ceiling for a moment. "Fine." He crawled out of the bed, forgetting that he only had his boxers on.

Claire giggled, covering her mouth with her hands. "You still wear Super Man underwear?"

He looked down at his shorts, smirking at the comment he was brewing up. "Would you rather see-"

"No!" She squealed, burying her face in his pillow. She pulled it away from her face when the smell hit her. "Ugh… didn't you shower before you went to bed last night?"

He shook his head, wincing as he bent his fingers to grab his monkey suit from the closet. "Too tired."

She rolled her eyes, leaving for the bathroom and returning a moment later with some cologne. "At least put some of this on." She handed the bottle to him, taking the tie from his hands and looping it around his neck. "You really need to learn how to tie this."

"It's a living hell." He sprayed a little of the cologne on himself, letting Claire tighten the knot around his throat.

She fixed his lapel, before leaning in to kiss his neck. "You're so weird."

"How so?" He cocked an eyebrow.

"You talk about your 'blood rag' like it's a normal thing, but a tie is somehow the bane of your existence." She took his hands in hers, dropping them as she remembered his bruised knuckles. "Sorry."

He shrugged, grabbing the old leather fingerless gloves from his dresser. "I'm used to it." He started to pull them on, but stopped when Claire took them away. "What'd you do that for?"

She took his arm, walking toward the door. "You don't need them." She smiled, brushing a finger over a scar behind his ear. "They tell a story."

He sighed, her words weighing on him. "It's not a good story."

"You can make it good." She kissed his jaw, again, reminded of his father. "You're not him."

He shook his head, meeting the eyes of Claire's parents as they grinned at him. "I'm not them either."


	43. Chapter 45

**Chapter Forty-Five**

John looked up at the church before him, taking in the families filing in with their Bibles and babies. Already, he could tell he didn't belong. He noticed how everyone his age was clean cut, well dressed, and seemed to have never felt the sting of a parent's blow before.

He climbed out of the car, rolling his shoulders as he started for the building.

"Stand up straight." Mrs. Standish poked John's side, fixing his suit and pulling his hands from his pockets. "What did you do?" She gasped, looking at his mangled hands.

"Calmed down." He grunted, as she poked his side again. "Stop. I'm seventeen, not three." He glared at the wall, ignoring the people surrounding him. "What happened to nice Clarissa?" He asked, not noticing the tall blonde woman approaching them.

"Good morning, Clare!" She greeted, giving Mrs. Standish a warm hug before turning to John. "Oh… and you must be John." She smiled, but John knew what she was thinking.

He turned to Clarissa, his dark eyes turning even darker. "You told her, didn't you?"

Clarissa met his gaze with the stubbornness only a mother could have. "You've been my prayer request since I first got the call that you were in the hospital." She poked his side again. "Stand up."

John shook his head, at least no one knew about his drinking and using, though he could really use a drink or some dope right about now. He clenched his fist, letting the pain ground him and pull him away from those thoughts. He couldn't relapse again. Not now, not ever. "I'm gonna go find Claire." He turned making his way toward the banquet room, grabbing a donut on his way through the kitchen.

"Well, look who it is."

John rolled his eyes, turning to meet Medusa —AKA queen of the Bitch Squad. "What do you want?" He groaned, letting his glare fall on the Wicked Witch of the West.

Jessica tilted her head, letting her dark hair fall over one shoulder. "Never thought I'd see you here." She smiled, an evil glint in her eyes. "What with your addiction problems and the wine we keep here for special occasions." She turned to an older woman in the coffee line. "Mrs. Porter, is the wine cabinet locked up?" She asked, motioning to John. "See, he can't control himself around alcohol," shot him a look, "Or drugs." She added sweetly.

John ran his tongue over his lower teeth, his temper starting to boil. "You know what, Medusa," he leaned closer to her ear, "I wouldn't go too far with that." He met her gaze, his eyes now as dark as a black hole. "I've got dirt on you too."

She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "You couldn't remember anything."

Now it was his turn, an evil grin spread over his face. "I saw you screwing Dominic under the bleachers last week." He cocked a brow, watching her reaction. "I bet your poor mother would be so disappointed to find out her perfect little princess isn't a virgin."

She gasped, her fear clear on her face. "You wouldn't."

John shrugged, leaning back on his heels ignoring the ache in his muscles. "Never know." He smirked moving to fill a cup of coffee. "I might decide to take a few drinks or hits, and forget to hold my tongue. Before you know it… oops… it slipped out." He took a drink of his coffee letting it burn his tongue without flinching. "And that's not all I have on you and the Gorgons."

Jessica shook her head. "I don't understand half of what you're saying."

John raised his chin, mischief shining in his eyes. "Find a Greek mythology book, you'll understand. If you haven't had your brains fucked out of your head." He feigned a sympathetic face. "Oh wait… it's too late for that." He left her there, drowning in her own embarrassment.

Claire met him at the door, her jaw halfway open in shock. "I can't believe she did that." She looked up at her boyfriend, noticing his oddly relaxed attitude. "What did you do?"

He took another drink of his coffee, loving how the bitter flavor stuck in his throat, letting the caffeine dull his cravings. "Just let her know who she's dealing with."

She shook her head. "I don't want to know." She led him into the sanctuary, finding her parents and pulling John so he was sitting beside her as the service began.


	44. Chapter 46

**Chapter Forty-Six**

John looked down at the hymnal for a split second, the lyrics going into memory as fast as his dad used to chug his Budweiser. His voice started out as a quiet rumble in his chest, slowly rising as he felt the music in his heart. The piano reverberated through his ears, into his chest, and back into his throat. He didn't really believe in God, but somehow, he could feel his demons backing away with every word. "To the old rugged cross I will ever be true It's shame and reproach gladly bear Then he'll call me someday to my home far away Where his glory forever I'll share" He noticed a small child staring at his hands, quickly stuffing them into his pockets. "And I'll cherish the old rugged cross Till my trophies at last I lay down And I will cling to the old rugged cross And exchange it some day for a crown I will cling to the old rugged cross And exchange it some day for a crown" He felt Claire's arm wrap around his waist, lifting one arm to lay across her shoulders.

One of the older women, glanced back at him, before turning to her husband and whispering something in his ear.

John tensed, his muscles flexing under the suit.

Claire picked up on the signal, making him look at her, with a hand on his cheek. "It's okay." She whispered, seeing the pain behind his eyes. "They don't know."

He nodded, feeling her fingers trace over his jaw. He knew why she did that, he did it himself. She was trying to erase the memory of his father, but no matter how much they tried, he would always resemble his parents. "It won't change." He placed his hand over hers, letting their fingers entwine. "I'll always be him."

She shook her head, looking into his eyes. "You're not him." She remembered his mother, his eyes were hers, and Claire wondered if she'd once had John's heart.

He jumped as someone tapped on his shoulder, turning to see a woman he remembered as the pastor's wife. "You have quite the voice." She complimented as the service was dismissed. "I was wondering if you would be interested in singing in the Choir?"

John shook his head, trying to think of a way to tell her why he didn't want to. "I don't believe in this." He stated, rubbing his fingers over Claire's dress. "I don't think there's anyone taking care of me out there." He felt Claire's arms tighten around him, and took comfort in her security.

The woman nodded, turning to her children. "Can you say welcome to John?" She asked, nodding to John.

"Hi John." The girl who was obviously older smiled, waving her hand at him. "I'm Ellie!"

He held a hand out to the kid, his kindest smile sliding into place. "Nice to meet you, Ellie."

She turned her head to look at his knuckles. "What happened to your hand?"

John swallowed, looking to Claire for guidance on what to say. "Uh…" He thought for a moment, building his words carefully. "I… I got hurt by some bad people." He glanced up at their mother, who he now remembered her name to be Evelyn. "And… I was really mad so I hit a punching bag really hard." He hoped he hadn't said to much, but just to be sure he cut the conversation off. "What's your brothers name?" He looked to the baby in the car carrier.

Ellie beamed, turning to the sleeping child. "This is Tucker." She held his little baby hand in hers. "He's six months old."

John smiled, looking up as he noticed Clarissa and Thomas talking to one of the gray-haired women who'd been around when Medusa had cornered him. "Hold on a minute." He stepped out of the row of chairs he'd been sitting in, pretending to be minding his own business while listening in on the conversation.

"I don't think that he's the best child you could have taken in." The woman said, motioning to where he had been a second ago. "I'm concerned that Claire might give into his influence, become an addict."

John worked his jaw, not sticking around to hear the rest. He pretended to not give a shit what people thought, but the truth was, every time he heard someone voice their concern for Claire. He hated that no one seemed to understand that he was trying to clean his act up, trying to become a good kid, a model citizen. He hated that no one wanted to give him a chance.

He stormed out of the church, starting toward the Standish house. His feet pounded the pavement, his muscles hurting every time his foot hit the ground.

When he got about three blocks down the road, he heard the BMW start to slow behind him and Clarissa's voice attempting to calm him. "John, get in the car."

He kept walking, his shoes rubbing blisters on his heels. "I'll meet you at home."

Claire rolled her window down, leaning out to try and persuade him. "That's five miles."

He shrugged, stepping over a puddle in one long stride. "So?"

"John." Claire gave him a look that could turn his heart to mush. "Please get in the car."

He stopped, taking the door handle and motioning for Claire to scoot over. "Move over." He slid into the car, his hand finding Claire's as they began the ride home. "I'm trying." He whispered, letting another brick in his wall down. "I really am."

She nodded, rubbing a hand over the back of his shoulders. "I know."


	45. Chapter 47

**Chapter Forty-Seven**

"Andrew! Phone!" Mrs. Clark shouted for her son. "It's John!"

Andy clomped down the stairs, taking the phone from his mother. "Hey Bender, what's up?"

"You want to come over for a while?" John asked, and Andy could hear something in his voice that wasn't usually there. "I got a surprise for you guys. Brian and Allison are already on their way over."

"What're you planning Bender?" He chuckled, already grabbing his letterman coat from the hook by the phone.

"Just get your ass over here." Bender stated, his voice oddly happy sounding.

Andy shook his head. "Okay, I'll be there in ten."

"I'm timing you asshole."

Andy hung up the receiver, grabbing his keys and heading out the door. "I'm going over to Claire's!" He announced, closing the door behind him.

Andy walked through the door to Claire's home, almost colliding with John. "Holy crap man." He stumbled backwards, lifting his chin to look the taller boy in the eye. "How do you do that?"

John shrugged, starting back to the living room on silent feet. "Just get in here."

Andy took a seat between Allison and Brian, taking in the wrapped boxes in their laps. "What's going on here?"

John handed him a box wrapped in horse wrapping paper. "Okay, open them." He took a seat in the chair he'd claimed, letting Claire crawl into his lap.

They tore into the paper, opening the boxes to show the statues of steel.

Brian pulled out a lizard wearing glasses and a graduation cap. "What on earth?"

John laughed, throwing his head back. "You're a smart kid. I just didn't want to do a mainstream owl."

They all burst out laughing at that, even quiet little Allison, who pulled out a little box with patterns welded into the steel. "It's a pencil box!" She smiled, beaming with joy.

John nodded, pointing out the Greek patters. "It's a pandora's box. No matter how many struggles you face, you'll always have hope."

Andy was next, pulling out the little race horse. "What's this about?"

John smirked. "The athlete, is like a race horse relying on strength and speed." He tapped on his own head. "But you need to learn to not always do what you're told."

Andy shook his head. "How did you know about that conversation?"

"I snuck into Vernon's office and broke his thermos and unscrewed the top, so it would spill coffee allover when he ate his lunch." He stated, pointing to the other couple. "You two, are insanely loud."

Brian shook his head. "You really are a criminal, aren't you?" He smiled, finally noticing that John wasn't wearing his long sleeves.

John smirked, hiding the fact that he knew Brian was looking at his scars. "I used to be." He slid his arms behind Claire's legs, hiding his scars. "But then I met you guys."

Brian looked to the group. "What, what did we do?"

John met his gaze, his eyes noticeably softening. "You were there for me." He touched the cigar burn, remembering his outburst in the library. "Even when I was a total dick to you all." He took a breath, knowing that it was time for another brick to fall. "You guys are my best friends… I thought that I'd die before I graduated… but now I know what it's like to not have to fit decades into one day." He shook his head. "I don't know how to thank you all."

Claire pressed a kiss to his cheek, brushing his hair behind his ear. "You don't have too."

Brian searched his brain for anything he could do to lighten the mood. "Hey, why don't we go to the carnival?" He asked, looking around at the group. "I promised my Mom I would take Amelia and I don't really want to be stuck on my own all day."

The Breakfast Club nodded, everyone bolting for their coats. Except for John. "I'll be right back, I've gotta put on a different shirt."

Claire caught his arm, meeting his eyes as he turned to look at her. "Please don't hide." Her fingers ran along one of the scars on the inside of his arm. "It's okay to show them."

Allison nodded, taking Andy's hand in hers. "They show how strong you are, and every battle you've faced."

John sighed, feeling Claire's soft touch. "Fine. I'll go without." He pointed to them. "But if anyone asks why I have them," He looked at Andy's jacket, "I'm gonna start stealing shit."


	46. Chapter 48

**Chapter Forty-Eight**

"Amelia!" Brian shouted as they entered his home. "Come on! Let's go!" He picked up an old picnic blanket from the closet, handing it to John.

Amelia appeared from around the corner, her hair wild and curly as usual. She stopped when she saw the rest of the Breakfast Club, confusion written on her face. "Who're they?" She asked, taking in the odd bunch.

Brian smiled, pointing to each member of the club. "This is Andy, Allison, Claire-"  
Amelia cut him off. "Are you a princess?"

Claire blushed, remembering how John had told her she was in that detention. "I-"

John interrupted her, laying an arm over her shoulders. "Yep! She is!" He pointed a thumb toward his chest, forgetting about his bare arms for a second. "I'm Bender." He leaned closer to her. "But you can call me John."

She looked up at him, a question obviously going through her head. "Are you a prince then?"

John felt his face heat, backing away from the kid. "Umm…." He looked at Claire, hoping she could help. "I mean, I'm in love with Princess Claire, but I'm not really a prince…"

She looked at his arms, noticing the scars. "Did you kill a dragon?" She asked, touching one of the worse ones.

John shot a look at Brian, his hands flying to the long-sleeved shirt around his hips.

"Yeah, he did." Allison piped up, taking his arm and showing her another scar. "He got this one fighting off an ogre," She pointed to another, "And this one was when he slayed the ugliest swamp monster you've ever seen," She landed on one just below his elbow "and this one he got when he killed the monster under all little girls' beds." She leaned back, admiring the work of her stories in the little one's eyes.

John looked between her and Amelia, not totally understanding what had just happened. "Yeah… but I don't like to tell." He pressed a finger to his lips. "I don't wanna brag."

Claire laughed, covering her mouth with a hand. "He's my knight in shining armor." She leaned into his shoulder, taking comfort in his warmth.

Amelia grabbed his hands, taking in all the nicks, scrapes and scars on his skin. "What was this one?" She asked, not picking up on John's unease.

He looked up at Brian, not knowing what to say. "I fucked up some really bad people."

"JOHN!" The group shouted, appalled by his language.

"What?" He shrugged, untying his shirt and pulling it over his head ignoring that his t-shirt was still underneath.

Brian looked at him, mouth open, and eyes about to pop out of his head. "She's seven."

Amelia tugged on Brian's shirt. "What does that word mean?"

Brian glared at John. "You said it. Now, you fix it."

John knelt down, meeting the child's eyes. "It means having-"

"NO!" They shouted, Claire clamping a hand over his mouth.

"It's a bad word, that John is going to get his mouth washed out for." She glared at her boyfriend, slowly letting his head loose again.

"We have some soap." She took John's hand, leading him into the bathroom, Claire on her heals.

"Oh, no," He held his hands up, slowly backing away from the room. "I'm not doing that."

Claire picked up the soap bar, handing it out to him. "You said it. Now you have to pay for it." She held the bar closer to his face, not noticing his change in behavior.

He backed up, tripping himself on one of the toys laying around. He landed with a hard thud, but didn't stop moving. He shied away from the club, backing himself into a corner and pulling his arms and legs into a ball. "Please… don't…" He whimpered, his hands curling around the top of his head.

Brian blocked his sister's view, hoping that John wouldn't get more unpredictable or violent. He knew that bringing Bender anywhere was a risk of something bad happening, but he'd never thought it would happen around his sister.

"What's wrong?" She asked, straining to get a look at the quivering boy in the corner. "Is John hurt?"

Brian pulled her close to his body, praying that John would pull out of it soon. "It's just a memory." He whispered, listening as John's breathing started to slow. "He's not hurt."

John flinched as Andy touched his shoulder, making the athlete shrink away. "What do we do?" He asked, regretting the contact as it only seemed to push John father into the memory.

Claire bit her lip, remembering the first few times this had happened when he'd first quit drinking and drugging. She turned wetting a washcloth under the sink, and rested in on the back of his neck. "Just give him a minute." She knelt before him, humming the start of a lullaby. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray. You'll never know dear, how much I love you, please don't take my sunshine away." She smiled as John started to come out of it, his limbs relaxing as he started to unfold himself. "There…" She placed a hand on his cheek, lifting his eyes to meet hers. Her heart broke with the pain behind them, she couldn't imagine what he'd just relived. "You okay?"

He gave a slow nod, leaning into her hand. "Hurt." He whispered, his jaw flexing in her hand.

Amelia broke free of her brother, rushing up to the boy on the floor. "Brian said you remember something and it made you do that. What was it?"

John shook his head, not ready to share this part of his life. "It was just a bad thing that happened a long time ago." He stood, catching the washcloth as it rolled down his back. "It was a really long time ago."

"I fell off my bike when I was six. Is that what you remembered?"

John shook his head, starting for the door. "Let's go." He rubbed his wrists, letting the friction warm the skin underneath the fabric. He had to get control, he couldn't let this keep happening. He had to stop remembering. _I wish I could get high._ He thought, sliding into his seat in Claire's car.


	47. Chapter 49

**Chapter Forty-Nine**

John bit into a cotton candy fluff, letting the sugar melt on his tongue. "Hey what's that one?" He pointed toward one of the game booths, noticing the giant stuffed bear hanging from the canopy.

Andy shook his head, knowing how frustrated John would be when he failed at it. "Don't do it Bender. You won't win at it."

John eyed the game, trying to fit the puzzle of it together in his mind. He watched how the players missed tossing the softball into the milk jug every time, but he knew he could figure it out if he tried hard enough. "We'll come back to it." He turned to the others. "Where next?"

Allison pointed to the agriculture building. "There's a baking competition that lets us taste the food after it's judged."

Claire nodded, pulling John after her as they took off for the building. "Come on slowpoke!"

John shook his head, unable to hide his laughter. He ran after them, his long legs eating up the ground between him and the others. He easily passed up Claire, followed by Alli, Andy, and finally Brian. "Last one there's a rotten egg!" He shouted over his shoulder, jumping clean over a rope of wires.

"Wait up!" Amelia shouted, struggling to keep up.

John turned, waiting for the kid to catch up. "Wanna shoulder ride?" He asked, smiling as she raised her hands for him to lift her. He picked her up, lifted her onto his shoulders, and took off toward the baking competition.

Claire slowed to a walk as she entered the building, her eyes landing on Mrs. Wilkinson remembering what had happened the last time she and John were in the same room. She could see the blue ribbon displayed beside her chocolate cake, telling the world that she had won. Her gaze slid over to John, who was holding Amelia's hand as she sampled the sweet goodies.

"You like that one, huh?" John asked, smiling as the child nodded and held out a piece of banana bread to him, which he gladly accepted by opening his mouth and letting her place it on his lips. "Mm… that is good." He rubbed the crumbs off of his chin, moving on to the next sweet. He knew that this was the woman who had said he was a bad influence on Claire.

"Thank you Jo-an, the Judge told me that it was addictively sweet." She bragged, not noticing John to her left.

John shook his hair back from his face, tapping the woman on her shoulder. She turned startled to see him, and John took pleasure in her response. "Guess that means I can't eat your cake. Seeing as if I get addicted to anything else, I'll be the guy that corrupts little Claire Bear."

The woman looked at him, mortified that he'd actually heard what she'd said in church. "Well, people who do-"

"Just say it." He snapped, letting Claire take Amelia away from him as his temper rose. "Addict, alcoholic, pill popper, pothead, burner." He leaned across the table, looking her right in the eye. "If you need more synonyms for me, I'd be happy to rattle a few off for you."

She dropped her gaze, ashamed of her behavior. "I just don't understand why-"

"I'll tell you why." He took his long-sleeved shirt off, revealing his torn and blood-stained Guns N' Roses t-shirt and the mangled skin on his arms. "Looks painful doesn't it?"

She looked away from his scars, silence falling over her.

"Well, that's why I used and drank. Because I didn't want to be in pain because of my dildo parents." He tied the shirt around his hips, his hands balling in the fabric. "Don't judge if you haven't lived through what I have." He pushed himself away from the table, both proud and ashamed of what he'd done. "You think you know what hell is… but it's so much worse."

He nodded to Amelia, taking her hand in his. "I'll buy to a funnel cake." He smiled, letting her touch and ask about his scars. "…That one, was from the time I fought the dark knight Sir Jacob Drinks-a-lot." He made a motion like swinging a sword, steering her toward the food trucks.


	48. Chapter 50

**Chapter Fifty**

John set a huge funnel cake in front of Amelia, looking around the table at everyone eating their corndogs and fried food. He smiled, reaching out to take a piece of the funnel cake. "Hey!" He laughed when she slapped his hands away, remembering when he'd done that to Brian. "You can't eat all that by yourself."

She giggled, powdered sugar flying off of the piece of fried cake and onto John. "Yes, I can." John flipped his shades down, making monster hands and slowly standing from his seat. "But maybe the tickle monster want's a bite." He launched for her, grabbing her in a strong hold before he started tickling her ribs. He laughed as she giggled and kicked, that is, until she got a lucky shot in. "Oof!" He doubled over, dropping Amelia on his way down. "Fuck."

"John!" Claire scolded again, not quite hiding her laughter at his unfortunate luck. "Watch what you say."

He glared at her, still on the ground. "I wouldn't be in such a good mood, unless you don't want babies in the future." He cursed that his voice was two octaves higher than normal.

Amelia looked at Claire. "What does he mean?"

Brian gave John a look as he struggled to his feet, watching him bend at the waist to help the pain. "Great going."

John took a deep breath, his cheeks puffing out with the exhale. "No problem." He gasped as he straightened up. "God, I need a-"

"No!" They shouted, all of them noticing that glint in his eye that always came with the cravings.

John sneered, showing his palms. "I'm not gonna actually do it. I was just saying I could use some."

"Some what?" Amelia asked, her big eyes looking up at John with all the curiosity that John had been robbed of as a child.

John looked down at her, a reply flying into his head right away. "Chicken shit."

"John!"

He grabbed a bunch of the funnel cake, stuffing it in his mouth, the powdered sugar a stark contrast against his tan skin. "Sorry." He turned to the kid. "Don't say anything I do." He raised a brow at her bother. "I don't usually say good words."

She tilted her head, confusion in those big eyes of hers. "Why?"

He pointed to the rest of the fried cake. "You gonna finish that? Or did I just spend two bucks on nothing?"

She turned back to the cake, stuffing piece after piece into her mouth.

John grinned, proud that he'd defused the situation. He took a seat on the wooden bench, his back facing the table, and his elbows resting on the table's top. He remembered being a kid and coming here with Sid back when their parents were still working. He remembered terrorizing the smaller kids on the bumper cars, and steeling anything they could to eat. He remembered the beer tent most of all. That's where he'd had his first taste of alcohol. He'd been eight, and hadn't stopped drinking until now. He chuckled, remembering how they'd e watched the talent show just to heckle the people on stage.

"What's so funny, Bender?" Andy asked, finishing off the turkey leg he'd ordered.

John shook his head, his hair falling over his sunglasses. "Just old memories." He took a breath, forcing the image of Sid's body down. "Had some good ones here."

"Like what?" Brian asked, swallowing the last of his corndog.

"When I was a kid, my buddy and I would come here with our folks and wreak havoc on these grounds." He pointed to the tent that was signing people up for the talent competition. "We were a living hell for those people over there, and every time someone tried to grab us we'd high tail it into the beer tent where our folks hung out…" His laugh faded, as he looked at the old tent and remembered where the start of his addictions came from.

Andy looked at the talent sign-up tent. "Why don't you sign up?"

John looked at him, his brows furrowing. "Me? No way."

"Oh, come on." Claire turned on her Bambi look, her long lashes fluttering so that his heart turned to mush. "You're so good."

"I don't have anything to play." He looked down at Amelia, smiling at her sugar covered face. "I don't think that kiddo here wants to hear any of my songs."

"Yeah I do!" She piped up, pushing on John's shoulder. "Wait…" She looked up at him, pushing his sunglasses on top of his head. "What can you do?"

John shook his head, rubbing a hand over his jeans. "I can sing."

"I wanna hear!" Amelia exclaimed, grabbing his hand and running toward the sign-up tent.

John sighed, picking up the pen. "What song do you wanna hear, kid?"

"Jack and Diane!"

John nodded, glad that he'd seen those lyrics when he was in a record store as a kid. "Alright." He looked up at the woman before him. "Do you have a guitar I can borrow?"

She nodded, handing him an old acoustic. "Just bring it back."

"Thanks." He turned back to the kid, plucking a few strings and tuning the instrument to the key he needed. "Go find a seat with the others, I'll be up here in a little bit." He couldn't believe he was actually doing this.


	49. Chapter 51

**Chapter Fifty-One**

John stepped on stage, looking out over the crowd. "This song was requested by my little buddy, Amelia." He strummed the first chords, his voice starting in his chest and vibrating into his throat. "A little ditty 'bout Jack & Diane Two American kids growing up in the heart land Jack he's gonna be a football star Diane debutante in the back seat of Jacky's car Suckin' on chilli dog outside the Tastee Freez Diane sitting on Jacky's lap Got his hands between her knees Jack he says: "Hey, Diane, let's run off behind a shady tree Dribble off those Bobby Brooks Let me do what I please." Saying oh yeah  
Life goes on, long after the thrill of living is gone Sayin' oh yeah" The crowd instantly went silent as he sang, his voice resonating through their bones. "Life goes on, long after the thrill of living is gone  
Now walk on Jack he sits back, collects his thoughts for a moment Scratches his head, and does his best James Dean Well, now then, there, Diane, we ought to run off to the city Diane says: "Baby, you ain't missing nothing" But Jack he says: "Oh yeah, life goes on, long after the thrill of living is gone" Oh yeah." He smiled at Amelia, watching her and a few other children dance along to the music. That's when he saw them, the parents and murderers of his childhood friend. "He says: "life goes on, long after the thrill of living is gone" Oh, let it rock, let it roll Let the bible belt come and save my soul Holdin' on to sixteen as long as you can Change is coming 'round real soon Make us woman and man Oh yeah, life goes on A little ditty 'bout Jack and Diane Two American kids doin' the best they can." He finished the song, letting the applause drown out his anger. He couldn't describe how much he hated the Silvermans, how much pain they'd caused not only to Sid but him as well. He made sure that they saw him, meeting their eyes as he left the stage.

Amelia tugged on his shirt, pure joy on her face. "That was good!" She giggled, not noticing his change in behavior.

He handed the guitar to Brian, pushing Amelia toward Claire. "I'll be right back." He stepped into the crowd, keeping an eye on Sid's parents as he moved through the people.

Every fiber of him was telling him to pick a fight, but he knew better. He circled them, like a lion looking for prey. He knew that they'd done it, but the cops were skeptical, they thought that Sid had died from a drug over dose. John knew that wasn't what had happened. If Sid had enough of anything in his system to kill him, it was only to help himself pass without pain. That was the same reason John had kept Oxycodone under his mattress, he hadn't wanted to be in pain when his time came.

He watched their behavior, keeping an eye out for a sign of guilt or remorse. That's when he saw it. The ring that Sid had always worn since they were kids, it had a skull etched into the band, and John knew that it could be a harmful weapon if you used it right. That skull, was just deep enough that if you hit someone hard enough it would cut them if you struck skin.

"What's wrong?" Allison asked when he returned to the group.

"Nothing." He picked Amelia up, placing her on his shoulders. "Let's go ride a roller coaster until we puke."

Amelia stuck her tongue out, shaking her head. "You're gross."

John flinched as the sound of a bottle smashing echoed from the beer tent. "I'm not gross. I'm just fucked up."

"JOHN!"


	50. Chapter 52

**Chapter Fifty-Two**

"He's really good with her." Brian smiled, watching John race his sister to the next ride, noticing that he let her win.

"Yeah…" Clare smiled as John scooped Amelia up and hung her upside down. "Who knew."

John turned to his friends, waiting for them to catch up. "You guys coming?" He asked, grabbing Amelia's shoulder as she started to stray.

"Dude, what's up with you?" Andy asked, noticing that John was keeping a closer eye on them that normal. "You've been weird ever since the show." He pointed to the blue ribbon poking out of John's back pocket. "And you won't wear that ribbon."

John's eyes shifted so that he was looking behind the rest of the Breakfast Club, a hint of fear showing in his gaze. "I just want to make sure everything's okay."

Claire looked to Allison, stepping into line behind John and Amelia. "So what time do you have to be home?" She asked, knowing better than to push John when he was like this.

She shrugged, picking at the nail polish on her fingers. "I don't know." She jumped, when John let an animalistic snarl escape him. "What's going on." She followed Johns line of sight, noticing how his grip tightened around Amelia's hand.

"Nothing." He growled, his eyes trained on a couple they'd never seen before. "Everything's fine."

Allison looked back to Claire, concern in her eyes. "You think it's his parents?"

Claire shook her head. "No way. He'd be a lot worse if it was."

Brian glanced down at Amelia's shoe, noticing the laces were undone. "Hey, Amelia, let me tie your shoes." He started to kneel, but she pulled away from him.

"I want John to do it." She looked up at the glaring teen, pulling on his still bruised fingers. "John, will you do it?"

John broke eye contact with the Silvermans, letting himself focus on the task at hand. "Here, I'll show you how it works." He took her laces between his fingers. "first, tie a knot." He looped one of the laces over his finger. "Second, make a tree, and then the rabbit goes around the tree and through the hole." He finished the bow, tying it off with a double knot.

She smiled, not noticing the couple sneaking up on them. "Teach me." A giggle started to escape her, when suddenly she was yanked out of the line and away from John and the Breakfast Club's reach.

John was on his feet in an instant, chasing after Sid's parents. He pushed through the crowd, trying to keep Amelia in his range of vision. "Amelia!" He shouted, his chest becoming tight. "Let her the fuck go!" He turned a corner, losing his footing as he skidded onto the concrete skinning up his arms. "I'll fucking kill you!" He didn't let his pain faze him, having learned long ago to block it out. He jumped to his feet, chasing them into one of the tents.

"John!" She screamed, reaching a hand out to him as she disappeared into the hall of mirrors.

"Amelia!" He paused listening for her voice, turning in a slow circle ignoring the reflections of himself. "Amelia!" He tried again, still nothing. "Amelia!" He screamed, his chest burning with the pain of what he'd done. "AMELIA!" His throat stung, his voice cracking with emotion. He felt Claire place a hand on his back as she crouched next to him in the dirt. "I lost her." He whispered, letting a single tear fall. "I fucking lost her."

Claire took his hand in hers, kissing the scabbed over knuckles. "We'll get her back."

Brian knelt beside the two, laying a hand on John's shoulder. "Yeah." He swallowed his fear for his sister, praying that they would find her soon. "We'll get her back."

John raised his head, glaring at was seemed to be nothing. "I'll fucking kill them for this."


	51. Chapter 53

**Chapter Fifty-Three**

John struggled against Andy's hold on him, fighting to get up so he could go after the Silvermans. "Let me go!" He growled, trying to catch Andy's legs with his ankles. "Get your fucking hands off me."

Andy adjusted his grip, hoping that he would still be on Bender's good side after this. "You promise not to jump into this head first?"

John kicked again, connecting with Brian's ankle. "Ow!" Brian yelped, waiting for Claire to come out of the phone booth after calling the cops and Brian's parents. "Watch it."

"Listen guys," John stopped struggling for a moment, his breath coming in shot gasps, "I know those people… and I also know… that they're not afraid to beat and kill kids."

He felt Allison push his hair out of his face, letting him see the rest of the world. "What do you mean?"

John struggled against the wrestler on his back, hearing the athlete grunt as he worked to restrain the much stronger teen. "They murdered my best friend." He felt Andy let go of him then, but he couldn't do much because Claire had returned from the phone booth.

"Okay, the police said they can't do much with the information that John gave me." She looked to Brian. "And your parents asked you to come home right away."

Andy nodded, looking between Brian and the others. "I'll take him."

John had suddenly become very quiet, which scared all of them. Claire slowly approached him, running a hand along his bare arm, her worry becoming worse when he didn't move of flinch. "John?" She touched his chin turning his head to look at her. "John, can you hear me?" She pushed his hair back from his eyes, revealing the wet tears around them.

"I fucked up." He croaked, trying to push everything down. "I should have kept a better eye on them."

Brian poked his head over Claire's shoulder. "I should have helped." He flinched as John faked toward him, starting back after Andy toward the parking lot.

"Come on, let's go home." Claire and Allison walked on either side of John, hoping that he wouldn't go on another wild goose chase through the city.

"I know where they are." He swallowed the lump in his throat, looking for a way to get away from the girls. "I know where they took her, and I know what they'll do to her." He picked up his pace slightly. "They did it to me, they did it to Sid, and they'll do it to her."

"John slow down." Claire struggled to keep pace with the long-legged boy before her. "John."

That's when he took his chance. He bolted, running full speed across the parking lot, jumping over any obstacle in his way.

He ran until his lungs burned for a rest, but he pushed on. The pains in his legs did nothing to stop him, nothing would stand between him and that little girl. He sprinted over miles of pavement, finally coming to the old rusted tracks that were the barrier between Heaven and Hell. He didn't slow down, not caring if it was getting dark, he would find that child.

Claire cried into her mother's arms, terrified that she would never see John again. "We couldn't find him anywhere." She hiccupped, letting Clarissa hold her closer.

Clarissa pressed her lips to her daughter's head, fighting her own fear for the boy her daughter loved. "He'll be okay." She rocked back and forth, trying to soothe her child. "He'll be okay."

The phone beside the couch rang, the two women going dead silent. Clarissa picked the receiver up, holding it to her ear. "Hello?" She asked, praying that the other person held good news.

"Bring six-thousand cash dollars to the Bender home by midnight, or the kid gets it." There was a click and the line went dead.

Clarissa dropped the phone, her hands shaking. She'd heard something in the background, it had almost sounded like John…

"Who was it?" Claire sniffed, afraid of the answer.

Clarissa pulled out her checkbook, writing a series of check for the maximum amount she could cash at one time. "Go to every bank you can and cash as many of these as you can." She handed a stack to her daughter, pushing her keys into her hand. "Meet me back here in a half hour." She pulled her coat on, grabbing her purse as she ran for the garage. "Hurry!"


	52. Chapter 54

**Chapter Fifty-Four.**

John curled around Amelia, taking every blow for himself. He hugged her head to his chest, biting his tongue to keep from crying out. He would not let this child feel what he had. He would not let them touch her. If he died protecting her, so be it. But he would not fuck up again. For once in his life, he would do something right.

Joe Silverman grabbed the back of John's hair, laughing at his grimace. "What's wrong you little fuck up?" He dragged a knife that he'd laced with meth across John's hairline, spitting in his eyes. "To scared to tell the cops about our son?"

John covered Amelia's ears, not wanting her to hear anything that was happening. He fought as the drug seeped into his system, he would not let the addiction win. He would not let that happen. He felt the blade hovering over his eyebrow, bracing himself for another forced hit of who knew what.

"John…" Amelia whimpered, clutching at his shirt like a lifeline. "I'm scared-"

He pushed a hand over her mouth, knowing that was what they wanted. They wanted them to be scared, they wanted them to scream, to cry, to bleed; but John would make sure that they never laid a hand on Amelia.

He closed his eyes tighter as the knife bit into his face, the cut coming slowly and allowing blood to seep into his eyes. He tasted blood, and knew instantly that he'd bitten through his own tongue. His shirt was ripped at the back, sending dread though his body. He could feel the affects of the drug on the knife already, his muscles starting to twitch in pleasure at the high. He exhaled through his nose, fighting the drug with every inch of him. He couldn't go down like this, not this way, not ever.

Something pressed into his back, the sharp prick of a needle. "Come on Johnny, give us the girl so we can get our money." Rachel whispered in his ear, pushing the needle deeper into his muscles. "We promise she won't get hurt."

He heard the sound of a belt clearing beltloops, his head spinning from the drugs in his bloodstream. "Maybe we should try to hear that pretty voice of his." Joe pushed his wife away, raising the belt like a whip.

That's when John heard it, the wail of a police siren. He knew he'd only have one shot, so he twisted, launching himself toward their captors, grabbing them both and pinning them to the floor. "Amelia, get that rope!" He jabbed his knee into Joe's back, forcing him down. "Now!" He hated to do that to a little kid, but he couldn't let them go. He couldn't let them get off with what they did.

Amelia handed him the rope, tears streaming down her face when she finally saw the state John was in. "I'm… I'm scared!" She wailed, running to the corner as the door was busted down by the cops battering ram.

John rolled off of his tormentors, letting the cops finish what he'd started. He reached a hand out to Amelia, holding her close to his body, his lips close to her ear as he whispered comforting words into her mind. "What's your favorite story?" He asked, letting her tears soak his torn clothes. "Is it Rapunzel?" She shook her head, her fingernails digging into the bare skin of his shoulders. "Cinderella?" Another shake of the head. "Okay, how about the story of the Brave Princess Amelia, who saved her knight from being hurt."

She nodded, her sobs lessoning for a moment. "That one."

John grit his teeth, the drugs beginning to take full effect. He took a breath, fighting the haze in his mind. "Once, there was a brave princess, whose name was Amelia." He swallowed the blood in his mouth, his vision fading at the edges. "And she was the bravest in all the land, even braver than her favorite knight, Sir Johnathan Mess-up." He heard something move to his left, instinctively hugging the child closer. "There came to her kingdom, an evil king and queen. She saw that her knight could not face them alone, so she helped, drawing her sword to cut down the evil in her kingdom." He felt hands on his back, lashing out at the person who'd gotten too close, his brain so drug addled that he didn't realize it was Brian. He pushed Brian to the ground, snarling as his hand found a broken shard of glass. "Back off."

Hands wrapped around his arms, forcing him off of the threat. "John." Thomas spoke into the boy's ear, knowing that he was responding out of his natural fight reflex. "John, it's just us." That's when he noticed John the syringe needle that had broken off at the plastic attachment point in his back. He met Mr. Johnson's eyes, knowing that this truth would be hard for them all. "He was drugged."

Mrs. Johnson rushed to her child, scooping her into her arms as she cried. "It's okay baby. Everything's going to be okay. It's all going to be fine." She soothed.

Claire stepped toward John, gasping at the blood dripping down his face. "John!"

"Stay back Claire." Her father warned, raising a brow at her. "He was drugged, and he's scared. I don't need you getting hurt too." He stepped with Paul out the door, handing the boy off to the paramedics as soon as they could.

John did everything in his power to escape their grip, but was useless in his drugged state.

Brian watched as they loaded both John and his little sister into ambulances, taking in the blood on Bender's body and face, and the unscathed skin of his sister. "He took it all…" He gaped, watching as they sped away with their families loading into their own vehicles to follow. He ran toward the Standish car, sliding into the seat beside Claire. "He took it all for her…"

Claire nodded, turning to him so she could cry on his shoulder. "Please Lord don't let him die." She sobbed, as Brian rubbed her back. "Please…"


	53. Chapter 55

**Chapter Fifty-Five**

Claire hovered outside of the hospital room, tears slowly tracking down her face as she listened to John's screams. She wasn't sure what they'd drugged him with, and she wasn't sure she wanted too, but this was John she knew that if he was in his right mind he would never be doing this. She heard the doctors cursing and she could only imagine what was happening in there. Then, suddenly it was dead silent.

She risked a peek into the room, seeing an incapacitated John laying in the bed, his wrists strapped to the bed rails. Slowly, she stepped inside, praying that he was okay.

Thomas sat in the corner, his head in his hands, and Claire could have sworn he was crying.

Clarissa brushed a stray hair out of John's sleeping face, hoping to bring him some comfort in the midst of his pain. "It'll be okay." She breathed, looking up as Claire stood beside her. "They knocked him out so that he doesn't hurt himself any worse." She whispered, watching the slow rise and fall of John's chest. She took in the still bleeding cuts on his head, knowing that they would leave scars.

There was a knock on the door, and they looked up to see the Johnson family at the door. Mary was holding Amelia in her arms, the child exhausted from her fright. "How is he?" She asked, noticing how still he was.

Clarissa nodded, stepping back to let the doctor start stitching his wounds. "He'll be okay." She placed a hand on Amelia's back, feeling her steady heart as it beat in her sleep.

Paul took her hand, knowing that words would never be enough to thank John for his sacrifices. "Let us know when he wakes up. We can't thank him enough for what he did."

Brian nodded, walking over to his friend's side. He looked up at Claire, knowing what came next. "He'll have to detox again, won't he?"

She nodded numbly, her hand resting in his. "Yeah…"

Brian rested a hand on her shoulder. "We're here for you guys." He swallowed, thinking about what John had gone through to protect his sister. "If you need anything, just call."

She met his gaze, tears shining in her eyes. "I'm just really scared."

"Yeah… me too." He mentally kicked himself, cursing his lack of bravery to save his own sister. John had leapt into the path of danger without a second thought, whereas Brian had just gone home to wait it out. He flinched as John's leg twitched, ashamed of the fear that coursed through him. "It's weird how, two months ago we hated his guts, but now we can't think of a way to live without him."

Claire smiled, running her fingers over one of the scars on his arm. "I never thought that a burner could be so selfless."

Brian smiled, amazed that John could push himself so far for someone he barely knew. "He's not a burner anymore. No matter what the Bitch squad says." He adjusted the sheets around John's feet, making sure he didn't get tangled up. "He's a hero."


	54. Chapter 56

**Chapter Fifty-Six**

John vomited into the toilet, his abdomen contracting with every heave. It'd been almost two days since the kidnapping, and he was still going through withdrawals. He dreaded every moment, waiting for his stomach to flip, or a seizure to grip him. His head throbbed constantly, and he was stuck somewhere between hot and cold.

He'd started to hate when Claire would check up on him, humiliated when she would catch him puking his guts out, or convulsing on the floor. He hated to feel so weak, so useless. He knew that the Standish's had good intentions, but he still hated for them to see him this way.

He rested his head on his arms, exhausted from his detox. His breath was short and labored as he attempted to recover.

"John?" Clarissa knocked on the bathroom door before opening it to see him in a heap beside the porcelain bowl. "You okay in here?"

"Go away." He croaked, as another wave of nausea hit him.

Clarissa rubbed a hand over his shoulders, trying to comfort him as his body caused so much pain. "It's okay, baby." She could feel his fever through his shirt, knowing that it wasn't going to go down anytime soon.

"I fucking hate this." He gasped, gulping down air before another bout hit him. "I'm sorry."

Clarissa held a cool cloth to his head, hoping to soothe his head and cool his fever. "What for?" She asked, being careful of his stitches.

He closed his eyes, letting her try to help him. "Getting high, putting Amelia in danger, fucking everything up."

She tenderly kissed his head, just like she'd done with her own son when he was sick. "It wasn't your fault." She pushed his hair back, ignoring the sweat soaking his locks. "You didn't choose for this to happen."

He leaned into her, finding relief in her arms. "I fucked up so bad."

She pulled him closer to herself, knowing that he was just babbling from the withdrawals. "You saved her. She doesn't have a scratch on her, and she was never exposed to the drugs. She's fine." She rocked him back and forth, unsure of what else to do as he cried into her blouse. "It's okay baby. It's okay." She couldn't imagine the pain he was feeling, the war raging in his mind. She could only pray that he wouldn't give into this new addiction. She knew that the Meth they'd injected him with was a highly addictive drug, and that the high had been incredible, but she also knew that he was strong enough to fight it. If he had fought it as long as he had when he was protecting Amelia, he could fight the withdrawals and win over his cravings.

His muscles started to twitch, the start of another seizure taking hold. Clarissa wanted to hold him closer, but she knew that would cause more harm than good. She laid him on the floor, stepping back to make sure she didn't get hurt while he convulsed. She made sure that he didn't injure himself while in the grips of the seizure, carefully redirecting him when he got close to something that could cause harm. Her heart broke with the cries of pain that escaped him, the little grunts and groans coming in short bursts between sobs and short cries. "It's okay, it'll be over soon." She soothed, not sure if he could hear her.

Slowly the convulsions stopped, letting him cry freely, his tears dripping onto the tile. "Hurts." He squeaked, letting Clarissa pull his limp body onto her lap. "Bad."

She shushed him, holding him against her as he cried. It reminded her of holding her own children when they were small, comforting them through pain and illness. But John was a different sick. It wasn't like a cold or the flu. This was a lifelong illness, one he would fight his entire life. She wished she could take it away, let him live without pain or addiction, but she knew that was impossible. "I know." She rocked him back and forth, listening as the front door opened and closed, letting Claire inside. "I know."

Claire peeked into the bathroom, seeing her mother and her boyfriend on the floor. "How is he?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

Clarissa shook her head, her eyes showing her heartbreak. "It'll be a long time before he's better honey." She hadn't told Claire yet, but the amount of meth that he'd had in his system was enough to kill a normal man, but somehow, he'd survived. "It's going to be a long road. And we have to be there for him."

She nodded, handing her mom the paper that Vernon had given her at school. "Vernon wanted me to give this to you." She knelt beside her mother, taking her boyfriend's limp body from her, tilting his chin up to look into his pain-filled eyes. "I love you." She kissed his head, feeling his temperature on her lips.

He closed his eyes, relishing in her touch. "I missed you." He whispered, his voice hoarse from the never-ending vomiting and crying.

"I missed you too."


	55. Chapter 57

**Chapter Fifty-Seven**

Andy knocked on John's bedroom door, opening it when he heard John's grunt that passed as a come in. "Hey man." He placed a bowl of broth on John's bedside table, wishing that his friend would respond more than he was. "Hungry?"

John shook his head. "It'll just come back up."

Andy nodded, taking a seat on the edge of John's bed. "Is it still bad?"

John raised his eyebrows, the dark circles under his eyes becoming more noticeable. "All I want, is more."

Andy dropped his gaze, knowing exactly what his friend meant. "I know."

"I want more." John repeated, picking at one of the many scabs on his arms that were another result of the withdrawals. "I need more."

Andy pulled John's hands away from the scabs, knowing that John wouldn't hear anything he said through the cravings. He could fit his fingers around John's wrist, noticing that his friend had lost weight over the last week. It was strange how drugs could affect someone so badly, a week ago he'd been healthy and strong, but now he was dropping weight like a sack of potatoes. His hair was thinning out from him pulling strands out, his arms were covered in fresh scabs and smeared blood. It was hard for anyone to see him this way, but it was especially hard for Claire. So, the rest of the Breakfast Club and their families had started helping out.

Mrs. Standish was stressed because Mr. Vernon had sent a note saying that John would have to be held back a year because of too many days missed. She dropped her head into her hands, tears dripping onto the table. John was like a son to her, and she would do anything to take these struggles away from him, but she couldn't do anything. She felt Mary rub her hand over her shoulders, as Carol Clark set a cup of tea next to her. "I don't know what to do…" She sighed, wiping her tears from her cheeks.

Kathrine Reynolds took her friend's hands, trying to help in any way she could. "He'll be okay." She whispered, glancing over at Brian who was chewing on his pencil. "We'll get through this."

Allison hugged Claire tight against her chest, letting her cry on her shoulder. "He's going to get better." She whispered, rubbing circles on her back. "He just needs time."

Claire looked up at her with puffy red eyes. "He's being held back a year." She cried, focusing on the small things to avoid the big threat.

Allison nodded, knowing what she was doing. "My Dad will be here soon, he gets off at three today." She knew that her dad had been keeping an eye on John's vitals trying to make sure that he was going to recover as quickly as possible. "He said the cravings will get worse before they get better though."

Claire nodded, dreading the peak of John's cravings that she knew was yet to come. "I'm scared."

Allison pushed her own fear down, knowing that she had to be strong for her friend. "Me too."

Brian tried to focus on his homework, but Amelia kept asking to see John so he could finish his story. "I wanna see him." She ran for the stairs, just reaching the first step before Brian grabbed her.

"He's not feeling good." He said, setting back on the couch. "He needs to rest."

"I can tell him a story." She stated, making another break for it.

Brian scooped her up again, sitting her on the sofa again. "No. He doesn't feel good. He needs to-"

He was interrupted when a loud crash echoed from upstairs. The mothers in the room all bolted up the stairs, ignoring the siblings on the couch.

The women shoved John's door open, taking in the scene before them. John was on the floor, Andy hovering over him unsure of what to do as the seizure took hold of his friend. There were shattered pieces of ceramic from John's bowl of broth scattered around the room, the broth soaking into the carpet. "Start picking up the bowl, and make sure he doesn't cut himself." Clarissa moved all the blankets, and anything else he could become tangled in, away from the child convulsing on the floor.

She didn't notice the seven year old in the doorway, watching in horror as her knight in shining armor cried out through gritted teeth as every movement of every muscle sent pain through his entire body.


	56. Chapter 58

**Chapter Fifty-Eight**

Amelia stood frozen in place, watching as John's body convulsed on the floor. She hadn't seen him since he'd rescued her from her kidnappers, she'd had no idea that he was so sick. She could see the scabs on his arms as they cracked open and began to bleed, she knew she had to help him.

Se rushed to his side, reaching for his hand before she was yanked away by her mother. "Let me go!" She squealed, trying to escape her mother's grasp.

"Amelia, go down stairs." Mary held her in a firm grip, trying to keep her safe.

Amelia fought her mother until John's seizure stopped, leaving his body in a state of exhaustion. That's when she finally broke away from her mom, rushing to her knight's side. "John?" She pressed a small hand to his cheek, feeling how unusually warm he was. "Why were you doing that?"

John took a long moment to gather his wits, his body having gone completely limp. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten onto the floor, or why the carpet was wet. He scanned the faces in the room, trying to remember what had happened. He felt a warm hand on his face, and when he looked at who it belonged to, he saw that it was Amelia.

Shame flooded his mind. Shame that he'd let her see him this way. That she saw him at his worst. That he was the first addict she'd ever seen in detox. He turned his head away from her, his dark eyes training on the shoes of Clarissa. "Out." He barely managed the word before his stomach twisted.

Clarissa jumped into action, helping him hold his head over the bucket they'd decided to use as his puke bucket. She supported most of his weight, letting his body lean on hers while he heaved what little he'd had in his stomach. She looked up at the other people in the room, knowing that John didn't what them there. "I'll take care of him." She said, feeling John's abs contract as the dry heaving began.

They nodded, filing out of the room. Mary picked her daughter up, carrying her kicking and screaming from the room. Brian tossed one last glance over his shoulder, listening to Clarissa hum a lullaby into his friend's ear.

Clarissa could feel John shaking with emotion, knowing that he was trying to not embarrass himself anymore. She let him turn into her shoulder, feeling his hands weakly grasping the back of her shoulders. "It's okay, baby. They're gone now." She knew he needed to be coaxed to let his emotions show, and she also knew that Claire and herself were the only ones he let do that. "It's safe. You can let it out."

He let out a hiccuping breath, tears spilling onto Clarissa's shoulder. His hands wadded up in her shirt as pain wracked his body with every sob. He hated himself, hated that he'd let that happen. He knew that Amelia was having nightmares and he hated that he'd added to her trauma by letting her see him like this. "I'm… sorry." He sobbed, his chest heaving with each breath.

She pulled him away from her, holding his shoulders in a firm grip. "Stop it." She ordered, looking him right in the eye. "Stop saying that you're sorry. You did the right thing. You protected that child. You risked your own life to keep her safe." She wiped a tear from his cheek. "You knew what would happen to her, so you made sure that she was safe. That little girl is alive right now because of you. You're the one who deserves an apology. No one else. Just you." She helped him stand, walking his weakened form to his bed. "You are a hero. You saved her life." She let him lay in the bed, pulling the covers up to his shoulders.

He turned his eyes up to her, shame shining in those dark pools. "I got high." He whimpered, letting another tear slide down his face. "I relapsed again."

Clarissa shook her head, brushing his hair back from his face. "You didn't relapse." She stated, taking a seat on his bed. "It wasn't your choice to shoot up, that drug was forced into you." She smiled, her fingers brushing the diamond earring her daughter had given him. "It wasn't your fault." She looked up as there was a knock on the door, her daughter slowly opening it.

"Is he okay?" She asked, afraid of the answer.

Clarissa nodded, watching as he started to nod off into sleep. "He's okay." She took her daughter into her arms, squeezing her in a tight embrace. "He's okay."


	57. Chapter 59

**Chapter Fifty-Nine**

Clarissa followed the guard into the prison, walking through the open door to see Beverly Bender sitting at the steel table in the room. She knew that she should have felt fear of this woman, but all she felt when she saw the woman, was rage. Rage for the boy who had become part of her family. It was a thirst for revenge, she wanted this woman to feel the same pain that she'd caused her own child. She took a seat on the opposite side of the table, taking her sunglasses off and looking Beverly in the eye. "Why did you call me down here?" She asked, not in the mood for any of this woman's bullshit.

Beverly dropped her gaze, her dark eyes a spitting image of John's. "I wanted to make sure John was okay."

Clarissa narrowed her eyes, trying to ignore the similarities between this woman and John. "He's got a long road ahead of him." She looked at the woman's hair, the same dark brown as her son's. "If you haven't heard, he was in a scuffle with your old friends the Silverman's a little over a week ago." She paused as Beverly lifted her gaze. She slid a picture of John's beaten, and drugged form to her. "They drugged him with Methamphetamine, beat him, and cut his face, while he was protecting a little girl by the name of Amelia. They kidnapped her at the carnival when John and his friends were enjoying the day with her." She pointed to the photo of John's back, showing the bruised and bloody flesh. "He risked his life to save her, and he is still in danger of the drug taking his life."

Beverly took the photos from her, looking down at her child. Her heart broke with the thought of what they'd done to him, but there was a flame of hate for her friend. No matter how much she'd hurt her own son, she'd never drugged him. "My baby…" She choked out as tears slid down her cheeks. "My poor baby."

Clarissa's blood boiled, as she snatched the pictures away from her fingers. "He is my baby now." She snapped. "You did nothing for him. You caused him so much pain, that he told me he thought he would die before he turned eighteen. You exposed him to so many addictive substances that he now has to fight against himself every day, to try and overcome what you put him through."

Beverly met the other woman's gaze, but all Clarissa could see were John's eyes. "I never meant for this to happen." She crossed her arms on the table, the same way John often did when he felt guilty. "I didn't realize what was happening to him."

"Like hell you didn't." Clarissa glared at her, trying to see her as just another woman, and not the woman John came from. "He is in the grips of withdrawal as we speak. And he told me that the Silverman's murdered their own child."

Something changed in Beverly, and Clarissa caught a glimpse of that same spark that she saw in John's eyes. "They killed Sid?" She grit her teeth, a habit that was often used by John when he was pushing his temper down. She took a breath, working up the courage to ask the question she'd wanted to ask since Clarissa had walked in. "Do you think he'll ever forgive me?"

Clarissa shook her head. "Never." She stood, placing one small polaroid photo before her. "He's got his own dreams now. He's done living in your nightmare." With that, she left, taking everything but the picture with her.

Beverly picked up the polaroid, looking at the image of her son on the stage of his prom. His hair was slicked back, a tie loose around his neck, dressed in a tuxedo, and a guitar just like his father's hanging from his shoulders. He looked just like his dad before the alcohol took over his mind and body. She couldn't hide her tears as the reality of her mistakes hit her. Her son was a man now, and he was ten times the man his father ever had been. She moved her thumb from the bottom of the picture, noticing the little note on the white plastic framing the photo. 'P.S. He gets straight A's.'


	58. Chapter 60

**Chapter Sixty**

John's stomach flipped, but there was nothing there to come up. He heaved until he was sure that his diaphragm was just a shredded piece of rubber. He knew that Claire was just on the other side of the door, waiting for the fit to stop so he could still hold onto some dignity. He hated this, he hated feeling like a baby. He knew that this was part of the detox, but he couldn't imagine the copious amounts of drugs he had to have had in his body for the process to last so long.

He stopped heaving for a moment, sliding onto the floor, unable to support his own weight any longer. He heard the door open, feeling Claire's gentle touch on his sweaty brow.

She lifted his head, resting it on her lap. She brushed her fingers though his hair feeling just how thin it was. She pressed a kiss to his nose, jumping back as another seizure gripped him. That was the fourth one in as many hours.

She knew that his body was exhausted, and filled with pain. She also knew, that this was the worst of it. Allison's dad had told them that the peak was coming soon, but Claire hadn't expected it to come while her mother was out. She wasn't sure what to do, she knew that John needed to have an eye on him at all times in case of a seizure. She also knew that if he did have a bad one to make sure his head was kept from hitting anything.

Claire hated to see him like this, she hated it with every fiber of her being. She watched as the seizure worsened, his body seizing as he foamed at the mouth. She heard her mom's car pull up in the driveway, thanking God that she had back up for this one.

She gently moved him away from the counter, keeping an eye on him until the seizure stopped.

Clarissa knocked on the bathroom door, waiting for an okay from her daughter before opening it. "Another one?" She looked down at the weeping boy on the floor, taking in the paleness of his usually tan skin, the scabs and scratches on his arms and body, the bald patches in his hair. He'd dropped so much weight that he looked about halfway to the weight he'd started at. It broke every fiber of her to look at him, to see her once heathy John reduced to this.

Claire nodded, taking his hand in hers. "That's the fourth one today."

"Fifth." Clarissa corrected, motioning to Claire to help pick him up. "He had one at two this morning."

They awkwardly positioned John between them, helping his limp body to his bedroom. They didn't lay him on the bed, instead opting for the floor in case of another bad one.

Claire placed a pillow under his head, knowing better than to give him a blanket.

"Fuck." He sighed, slowly opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling.

Clarissa swallowed, remembering John's mother in that prison. "I know baby."

He reached toward her, his hand finding hers. "You're the best mom… I've ever had." He knew he was going to die, he just wished that death would hurry up and claim him.

Clarissa took his hand, squeezing it just hard enough to keep him awake. She knew that he wanted to give up, to let the drug win, but she wouldn't let any of that happen. "Don't close your eyes." She ordered, waving Claire out of the room. "You're not going to do this. You are going to fight it." She shook his shoulder, digging her nails into his skin. "You listen to me. You are not going to let this win."

John tried to push her away. Couldn't she see that his pain was too great? That his time had come? He'd walked the line between life and death since he was a baby. He knew what death felt like, and this was it.

She shook him harder, she had to keep him alive. This child would not die. She'd already lost her youngest to a miscarriage when Claire was two, she would not lose this one too. "Johnathan. Johnathan, look at me."

He turned his head, his chocolate eyes void of emotion.

"You will fight this." She ground out, keeping eye contact with him. "You've fought your entire life. You will not give up now."

Claire hugged her pillow to her chest, listening to her mother order John to stay alive. She listened through the night, her tears soaking her pillow. Eventually her father's voice joined in the coaxing of John's life, but all she could think was that this was the last time she would ever see her one true love.


	59. Chapter 61

**Chapter Sixty-One**

Claire's door burst open, revealing her frazzled mother. "We're going to the hospital, get in the car." She bolted back to John's room, to gather a few of John's belongings as her husband carried the boy to the car.

Claire jumped into the back seat, taking John's head as her father placed him inside. She watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, praying that it wouldn't stop. She knew that he wanted to give up, that he wanted the suffering to end, but she couldn't watch him die. She brushed her fingers through his hair, letting her tears run down her cheeks. "Please don't die…" She choked out, pressing her head to his, her tears falling onto his cheeks. "Please."

Thomas pulled up to the emergency room door, throwing the car into park and pulling John's limp body from the backseat and rushing him inside.

Claire didn't even get to see them take John back, the last thing she saw of him, was her father carrying him inside before she could get out of the car. She leaned into her mother, letting herself cry openly. "He can't die." She sobbed, feeling her mother tighten her grip on her. "I love him. He can't die."

Clarissa gathered her in her lap, like she used to do when she was a little girl. "He won't." She soothed, running her hand through Claire's hair. "He's a fighter. He'll fight this." She kissed her head, rocking her back and forth. "We just have to get him through the night."

Claire entered the room that held her John, the room where he may spend his last hours, letting the beeping of the heart monitor comfort her. She looked down at the boy in the bed, knowing that she needed to tell him what was in her heart. "John, if you can hear me, I need you to listen." She saw his eyes move under their lids. "You are my one true love. I want to be your wife one day. I want to give you children, but for that to happen, I need you to fight this." She squeezed his hand, feeling it twitch in response. "I need you to fight, and win." She smiled as his fingers gripped hers, knowing that he'd heard her. "I need you to pull through and come back stronger. I know you can do it. You've survived hell and I know you can survive this."

John's eyelashes fluttered, letting Claire know he'd heard her.

"Fight it John. Fight it with everything you have." She watched as his eyes slowly opened, turning the color of apple cider in the first rays of dawn that were filtering through his window. She knew that the worse was behind them when she saw that, a smile creeping onto her flushed face. "There you are."

He gave a broken smile, his pain starting to fade little by little as he looked at his angel. "I love you." He whispered, his voice hoarse from the day before.

She kissed him on the lips, not caring about the little bit of drool on them. "I love you too."

Clarissa let out a cry of joy, rushing over to see the boy who'd become like a son to her. "We love you more than you know."

Thomas nodded, patting his shoulder. "Glad you came back kid."

John smiled, feeling like he finally had a family for the first time in his life. "Can I have some food?" He asked, his appetite returning like a storm. "I'm starving."

The family laughed, glad to see that he was feeling better. "We'll get you something." Clarissa smiled, already itching to put more weight on him. "Got to get your figure back."

John chuckled at that, taking comfort in her words. He was ready to pack on a little weight too, he'd learned that he didn't like being to thin anymore, he liked the weight he'd gained upset that he'd lost so much. "Thanks." He squeezed Claire's hand, turning to look at his girl. "Did you mean what you said?"

She nodded, happy to see the spark of hope in his eyes again. "Yes." She held his hand to her heart. "I meant every word of it."

John laughed. "Well shit, now I have to buy a ring."

She raised a brow at him. "Are you really proposing to me in a hospital bed?"

He smirked, happy to see that he still had it. "Is that a yes?"

She looked to her dad, seeing the approval in his eyes. "You're not going to ask for my hand?"

John rolled his eyes, turning to the man who'd become like a father to him. "May I have your daughters hand in Marriage?"

Thomas shook his head, patting John's shoulder. "How about you wait until after she's eighteen."

John nodded, understanding showing on his face. "Okay. I can do that." He looked up at his girl. "Gives me time to save up for the ring she deserves."


	60. Chapter 62

**Chapter Sixty-Two**

John looked up at the school, knowing that he would be coming here for most of the summer if he didn't cram everything he'd missed into the next week. He felt Claire's hand in his, knowing that she was thinking the same thing as him.

"It'll be okay." She stated, patting the pocket on his new backpack letting the medication rattle in the prescription bottle. "If you feel anything, remember to take one." She adjusted his beanie cap, hiding his shaved head. "And we'll be with you the entire time."

He kissed her, finding comfort in her touch. "Thank you." He whispered as they started toward the steps of the school.

"Well if it isn't the meth head and his little bitch." Medusa announced, smiling as John dropped his head. "What? Too high to come up with a comeback?" She circled him, noticing the bright orange of the pill bottle in his bag. "What's this?" She asked, taking the bottle from the pocket. "Popping pills at school?" She sneered, tossing the bottle to Peter when Claire lunged for it.

"Give it back you bitch!" Claire shouted, not straying to far from John in case something happened with all the action going on around him. "He needs those!"

"Oh, so now you're helping him get high?" Peter scoffed, tossing the pills to one of the other jocks. "Some girlfriend you are."

John felt his muscles start to tighten, grabbing onto Claire's shoulder for support. "Claire-" He didn't get the chance to finish the sentence before the seizure hit, taking him to the ground in a matter of seconds.

Brian, Andy, and Allison jumped into action, pushing everyone back from their convulsing friend, trying to help him keep some of his dignity. They knew how embarrassing it was for him when they hit, and they also knew that this had been his worst fear of coming back to school.

"Get away!" Brian barked, his voice like that of an aggressive dog. "Get away from him!" He was vaguely aware of the others shouting similar things, and John's grunts of pain as his muscles contracted more than they ever should.

"Give them back!" Claire screamed at the jocks, at the same time as trying to keep John from injuring himself. "He needs them!" She knelt beside him, taking his head in her hands so he didn't hit it on the concrete. "This is your fault!"

Vernon pushed through the crowd, taking the pill bottle from Peter and rushing over to the boy on the ground. He looked at all the students, his voice echoing over them. "Get inside!" He ordered, watching at they all filed into the school. He waited for John to stop convulsing before approaching him and his friends. "Here." He dug one of the pills from the bottle, watching as John swallowed it. "Who took them from you?" He asked, helping John to his feet.

John shrugged, not remembering the last few minutes before the seizure hit. "I don't know."

Claire took his hand, looking up at Vernon. "It was Jessica and Peter." She stated, taking the bottle from the vice principle and starting back toward the school.

John pulled his hat back on, ashamed of the scene he'd caused. "I fucking hate this." He noticed a few of the burners putting out their half-smoked joints, and walking over to them.

Dominic looked his friend in the eye, a smile on his face. "We're here for you man. If you're sober, so are we." He turned to the six other kids behind him, smiling at their eager nods. "We've been too long without our El Jefe." He smiled, enjoying the chance to speak his mother's native language that only he understood outside of those two words.

John gave a weak smile, shaking Dominic's hand. "Good to be boss again, Cuz." He smiled, happy to speak to his cousin for the first time in a long while.

Allison looked between the two, noticing that they had the same jawline and similar skin tones. She leaned toward Claire, whispering in her ear. "They could almost be brothers."

Claire nodded, remembering what John had told her about Dominic and Medusa. "Yeah, they could..."


	61. Chapter 63

**Chapter Sixty-Three**

John sat in the library, looking over the text books that Brian had let him borrow with a huge stack of papers he had to fill out in order to catch up on his schoolwork. He glanced at the books, filling out each paper with the correct answer as Mrs. Quinn sat beside him.

She watched him work at a dizzying pace, amazed at how he could remember everything in the books. She'd always known he was smarter than her average student, but maybe there was more to it than that. "You have got to be the smartest student I've ever had." She watched him fill out the last paper, already knowing that it would be an A+ grade.

John pulled his sleeve farther down on his wrist, hiding the healing wounds on his arms. "I just wish I'd been smart enough to stop this." His fingers twitched, and he started digging in his pocket for the pills, taking one with a sip of water.

Mrs. Quinn took the paper from him, checking it over and scribbling an A+ on the sheet. "You're trying now, that's what matters." She looked at him, standing from her seat. "I'll get this to the school board and we'll see if we can move you up next year." She shook her head looking down at the giant stack of paper in her hands. "I don't know how you can go through two weeks of work in two hours."

John stood, taking his time so he didn't trigger another fit. He hadn't had any after the start of the school day, but he still didn't want to risk it. "It used to be easier before this happened." He looked up noticing one of the burners, Jim, keeping a close eye on him. "Everything was easier."

She nodded, hardly able to wrap her head around what he'd done. "You did the right thing." She met his gaze, knowing that he needed to hear this. "You're a hero."

John started for the door, pulling his hat lower over his ears. "I don't feel like one."

Jim fell instep behind John, leaving a fair amount of distance between them. He knew that John was independent, and that having to be watched twenty-four seven was killing him. Jim followed him until he reached the restroom, listening for anything unusual.

"Hey there meth-head." Peter sneered, cornering John between a couple of urinals. "You come in here to shoot up?"

John curled his lip, wishing that he was strong enough to take the jock down. "Back off, Jockstrap." He felt a flame building in his chest, an old friend he hadn't felt for what seemed like forever.

"What? You scared of another twitch attack?" He barely got the sentence out before he was yanked away from the weaker teen, surrounded by three big burners.

"Let him alone." Jim ordered, his southern accent thick with his anger. "You think you're so brave, pickin' on him?" He pushed the jock away. "He's twenty times the man you are."

John rested a hand on Jim's shoulder, giving him the signal to shut up. "Can I just take a piss already?" He turned unzipping his fly so that he could empty his bladder. He kept his head down, glad that for once no one was staring at him.

Ever since that morning, he'd had eyes on him constantly. It made him feel like a freak, it was like everyone thought he would have an attack at any second, and every time he took his medication to manage the seizures they looked at him like he was shooting up in front of them. He just wished that he could manage them on his own. That no one would have ever found out about his home life.

He zipped up, pulling his sleeves up a little so he could wash his hands, forgetting about the scabs.

Peter smiled, grabbing John's wrist and pulling his sleeve farther up his arm, making the newest one's bleed. "What's this?" He asked, squeezing his hand around John's wrist. "You do this to get high too?"

John took a wild punch, hitting him right in the eye. "Hold." He barked the order for his friends to back down. He had to do this. If not to bring justice to this school, the to prove to himself that he was still himself. That he could still protect himself and his friends.

He grabbed Peter's arms, pinning them behind his back like Andy had done to him. He had to put all his weight into the pin, relying on that more than his strength. He was glad that he'd taken a pill before this, because he knew if he hadn't he would have been in the grips of a seizure by now. He ground Peter's face into the floor, proud that he could still beat him into the dirt. "If I can beat your ass like this, I'd be afraid of when I finish recovery." He growled, shoving away from the jock his head spinning as he stood too fast.

Cody, a big black-haired burner, steadied him with a hand on his shoulder. "You okay boss?"

John shrugged him off, giving a short nod as he left the room. "I'm better than I was." He stated, letting the door close behind him.


	62. Chapter 64

**Chapter Sixty-Four**

Claire watched as one of the only girl burners picked the lock on Jessica's gym locker. "Where did you learn that?" She asked, as the lock popped open.

Kaylie gave a classic burner smirk, pulling out Jessica's conditioner bottle from the locker and a bottle of green hair dye from her bag. "Where do you think?" She dumped the dye into the conditioner, giving the bottle a good shake to distribute the color. "Your boyfriend taught me everything I know."

Claire watched as Kaylie placed the bottle back in the exact place it was in before. "Did you guys ever date?"

She barked a laugh, closing the locker and giving the combination lock a spin. "You're kidding right?" She looked the smaller girl over, her blonde hair falling over one eye. "I think you're the only one who could bag him."

Claire furrowed her brow, remembering the pictures in John's wallet. "I just thought I saw your picture in-"

"What? In his wallet?" Kaylie laughed so hard that Claire thought she might fall over. "He has a picture of all of us outcast girls in there." She shook her head, opening her own locker and pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a bag of weed. "He liked to show them to our dealers to keep an eye on what we were getting." She tossed the drugs into the trashcan, dusting her hands off on her black skinny jeans. "He took care of us. Made sure we never did anything to hard, and that we weren't being hurt." She pulled the hem of her shirt up, showing an old scar on her hip. "He saved me from being raped when we first started high school. Messed the guy up pretty bad."

Claire looked at the scar, noticing the smaller pock marks on either side of where the cut had been. "Did you go to the hospital?" She asked, knowing that it had taken stitches.

She shook her head, running her fingers over it. "He stitched me up. We didn't have anything but a needle, thread, and a fifth of whiskey." She smiled remembering how he'd let her wear his pants home from that ally and walked her home in his boxers. "Stitched it up under a street lamp."

Claire swallowed, unsure of what to say. "You're all pretty tough, aren't you?"

Kaylie shrugged, pulling her hair into a ponytail. "John's the toughest. He and Sid were thick as thieves, they were our leaders, our bosses. If one of them got beaten too bad to show, the other took over." She ran a hand oved the tattoo on the inside of her wrist. "Sid was my man."

Claire was silent for a moment, remembering how John had told them that his best friend was murdered. That must've been Sid. "I'm sorry." She whispered, taking in the broken look on the blonde's face.

Kaylie tilted her head toward the door, her smirk sliding into place just as seamlessly as John's. "Come on, I wanna show you what the guys have planned for Jockstrap."


	63. Chapter 65

**Chapter Sixty-Five**

John took the itching powder from Dominic, sprinkling it onto Peter's jock. "This is gonna be great." He chuckled, tossing the athletic supporter back into the Jock's locker and giving the lock a spin. "We shoulda thought about this sooner." He smiled, feeling a little of himself emerging from the fog that had been hanging over him for the last few weeks.

Dominic shook his head, taking the powder from his cousin. "We never needed it before." He smirked, placing the box in his own locker. "We always blended in, no one gave us trouble because we didn't exist." He gave his cousin a punch on the arm, his smirk turning to a grin. "Now we can finally let loose. You changed the game man, we're not the oppressed anymore."

John nodded, a glimmer of mischief shining in his eyes. "It'll be anarchy."

"Exactly."

Claire waved to John as he and Dominic entered the gym, not missing the evil smirks on their faces. She looked between Allison and Kaylie. "What did they do?"

Jim shushed her, patting her shoulder. "Just wait until the match starts." He drawled, pointing to the wrestlers as they entered the gym.

John slipped into the seat next to Claire, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Hey there sweets." He smiled.

Claire giggled, watching as Peter started to squirm as he waited for his match. "What did you do?" She asked, watching as he started moving his legs awkwardly.

John grinned, the dark circles under his eyes lightening with joy. "Itching powder." He chuckled as Peter started to scratch his thighs, biting his lip to hold in the real laughter.

Claire was happy to see him like this, he was almost back to normal now. She could see that little by little the John who she'd seen at the carnival was returning, and that the John who'd been pulled away from Amelia kicking and screaming was fading away. She knew his cravings were still horrible, but she also knew he could win this war inside himself. "You really are a pain in the ass."

His arm twitched, sending panic through his body. Had he missed his medication? What time was it? He glanced up at the clock, fear shooting through him when he saw that he was two hours behind. He stood, bolting for the exit, but he dropped like a box of rocks before he could get halfway there. The seizure gripped him so fast that hardly anyone knew what had happened. Pain shot through him, his muscles feeling like they were on fire.

The Breakfast Club and the burners rushed to his side, making a wall of their bodies to shield their friend from prying eyes. Even Andy wriggled out of the hold he was in to join them, throwing the foam helmet from his head as he took his position. They raised their voices, masking the sounds coming from the boy on the floor. They didn't make any one sound, knowing that would add confusion to the situation.

Claire held John's head as he seized, keeping his jaw closed so he didn't bite through his tongue. She could feel tears pricking her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. John had always been strong for her, now it was her turn to be strong for him. "It's okay." She soothed, blocking out the sounds around her so that she could focus on John. "You're okay." She smiled as the seizure faded, letting herself relax as John stilled.

His breath can in short bursts, little grunts of pain escaping him, as the noise of his friends started to fade. He opened his eyes, looking into those of his girl. He felt his face heat with the shame of what he'd let happen. "Again?" He asked, dropping his gaze.

Claire nodded, helping him put his hat on again. "Let's get you home." She helped him to his feet, steadying him against herself. "It's been a long day."

Kaylie walked with them, letting her burner mentality show. As they passed the girls locker room, they were startled by a scream. And a few moments later a green haired Jessica appeared in the hallway.

She looked at the three, pointing an accusing finger at Claire. "You!" She launched for her, but slammed into John's chest instead.

He pushed her away, a snarl rising in his throat. "Stay away from her Medusa."

Kaylie pulled him back, taking his place in front of the prep. "Stay away from all of us. Or next time it won't just be dye." She started back after the others, raising an obscene gesture to the green haired girl behind them.


	64. Chapter 66

**Chapter Sixty-Six**

John sat on his bed, pen in hand as he wrote down a new project. It was a song he'd been working on for a while, he just wasn't exactly sure how to execute it yet.

He looked up as a car door slammed, getting out of bed to see who was here. "Hey, Battle-axe is here!" He shouted, smirking at the new nickname for the old woman.

"John!" Clarissa laughed, happy to see that he was getting back to his smartass self. "Don't call adults names!" She smiled, as he appeared at the top of the stairs.

John shrugged, biting his tongue as the doorbell rang. He shrunk into the shadows, listening carefully to what Dragon Lady had to say.

She opened with the usual greeting, not noticing the boy above her, before moving on to what she'd obviously come to speak about. "Clarissa, I'm concerned that if you're not careful about letting that boy live in your house, he may end up being your son-in-law." She took Clarissa's hand in hers, showing her real worry. "And he may have the tendencies to be abusive, like his father."

John's lip curled. Why was this lady so against him?

Claire placed a hand on his back, calming him just enough to keep him where he was. "Mom will handle it." She whispered.

Clarissa pulled her hands back, placing them on her hips. "He will not become like his father. If you cared to get to know him you would see that." She pointed at the door. "And I would be a damn honored to have him as my son-in-law. Now please leave my home." She snapped, scaring the old woman from the home. She slammed the door behind her, looking up at the pair on top of the stairs. "I swear, people are going to be the death of me."

John cracked a smile, starting down the stairs. "Thanks Mom." Then he did something very un-John-like. He wrapped his arms around her in a strong hug, making tears of happiness fall from her eyes.

She returned his embrace, feeling the strong beat of his recovering heart. She looked up at the tall child before her, happy that he'd finally accepted her as his family. "I'm so happy you said that." She cried, letting her head rest against his chest once again.

He chuckled, bringing Claire into the hug with an arm around her back. "You're my mom now. Nothing can change that." He kissed Claire's head, meeting her eyes. "And someday I'll make it official."

The girls smiled, leaning into him as much as they dared. They knew he was still unsteady, but he was recovering faster than they had expected. The only thing that scared them were the seizures. They didn't seem to be improving as quickly as they should have been; but this was John, he was determined to get better and when he set his mind to something, it was damn well going to happen.

Clarissa smiled at her daughter and future son-in-law. "You better hold him too that." She laughed.

Claire lifted her hand, showing her the band around her finger. "He already gave me a promise ring."

Her mother took her hand examining the metal. "Is this made out of a quarter?" She looked up at John, humor in her eyes.

John nodded, his cheeks pinking, darkening his already tan skin. "I couldn't afford one from the jewelers yet."

Clarissa shook her head. "I don't know how you can do this."

He shrugged, pulling his beanie lower over his head. "It's easy really." He curled Claire's hair around his finger. "Just have to know what you're messing with."

Claire smiled, leaning into his touch. "You're messing with fire right now." She chuckled.

He kissed her lips, tasting her lip balm. "This fire tastes like vanilla."

"You're so weird." She chuckled, listening to her mother's laughter as she walked to the kitchen.

John played with the matching diamond earring in Claire's ear, an idea blossoming in his mind. "Did Andy get in a lot of trouble for forfeiting his match?" He asked, hiding his spark of an idea with a distraction.

Claire nodded, pursing her lips. "He's grounded for a week." She looked up at him, her smile returning. "He doesn't regret it though."

John shook his head. "He's too good for his own good." He smirked, glad that Andy was finally starting to think for himself. "It's strange how you all hated my guts when we first met."

Claire took a seat on the sofa. "Well, to be fair, you hated us too."

John sat beside her, placing a hand on her thigh as he looked at the stack of movies beside the TV. "We probably could have made a John Hughes movie out of it."


	65. Chapter 67

**Chapter Sixty-Seven**

John took the envelope from Vernon, knowing that it held his SSAT scores and the verdict that the board had decided on concerning his pending summer school with Jessica and Peter.

Vernon smiled, noticing that John was starting to look healthier already. "You did good this year." He patted him on the shoulder. "I'm proud of you."

John's head snapped up, looking Vernon in the eye with a look of shock on his features. "What?" John couldn't believe what he was hearing. A teacher was proud of him?

Vernon handed him another piece of paper, addressed to the Standish's. "Let the Standish's know that parent teacher night is on Saturday night." He held up a hand as John started to protest. "I know that it's the same night as your concert, but I couldn't get the board to change the days. School ends on Friday and I'm already in warm water because I'm letting you off early."

John nodded, thankful that Vernon had gotten him off early from good behavior. "Thank you, Sir."

Vernon raised a brow, surprised at the unusual politeness. "Not going to call me Dick anymore?"

John gave a classic burner smirk. "I don't think it fits anymore." He patted him on the arm. "But don't worry, I'll come up with something else by next year."

Vernon shook his head. "You little shit." He chuckled, shooing him toward the door. "Go find the Breakfast Club before I find something else for you to do."

John laughed, bolting for the door to find his friends, stopping as his watch timer started to beep. He sighed, taking out the pill bottle and popping one into his mouth before taking a sip of water from the fountain beside him. He hated these damn things, but unless he wanted to embarrass himself again, he had to keep up with them. He was just thankful that they weren't addictive and he could get off of them if his seizures ever stopped without side effects.

"Junky." Medusa's voice mocked from behind him.

He turned, not expecting what came next.

Jessica pushed him against the locker, forcing him to kiss her, knowing that Claire was just down the hall.

John shoved her off of him, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. "What the fuck?" He stuck his tongue out, meeting Claire's eyes. "Claire, get me some industrial strength mouthwash stat!" He smirked as her expression relaxed, knowing that she knew it wasn't his idea.

Jessica glared at him, pressing her body against his, her hand touching his manhood through his jeans. "You know you've always wanted me, John." She smiled as she felt him becoming hard from her touch. "I know you've had a crush on me since ninth grade."

He suppressed the sound of pleasure forming in his throat, refusing to give her the satisfaction she wanted. "I wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole." He ground out, trying to push her away despite the pleasure coursing through his body.

She pressed closer to him, an evil grin spreading over her face. "Feels to me like you have one."

John's throat constricted, as he tried to get away from her. "Get away from me you whore." He didn't see the blonde sneaking up on them until Medusa was yanked away from him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Kaylie snapped, pushing the green-haired girl against the lockers on the opposite side of the hall. "That's sexual assault, and it's against the law." She remembered the masked man in the ally, remembering what he'd attempted to do to her. "I don't care if it's a man or a woman that does that, it's not right either way." She looked over her shoulder, noticing how John was covering his crotch. "You want me to return the favor?" She asked, looking between him and his girlfriend.

John shook his head, remembering the bloody mess that Kaylie's attacker had been left in. He didn't want Kaylie to have to do that. "Leave her." He ordered, taking Claire's hand and reaching for his wallet. "She's not worth the trouble." He handed the wallet to Claire, opening it to reveal the little picture album filled with pictures of her. "It'll just bruise you up more than she's worth."

Claire looked at the pictures, her heart swelling with love for him. She knew why he'd given this to her, he was afraid that something would happen and she would forget how much he loved her. She looked up at John, pulling a miniature mouthwash bottle from her purse and handing it to him. "Here."

He took it, swishing it around in his mouth before spitting it into the fountain. "Thanks."

Kaylie gave Medusa one last hard shove into the locker, pleased at the little squeak of pain that escaped her. "If I catch you doing that to anyone else, I'll make sure you're not so pretty anymore." She glowered as the smaller girl scurried away from them, turning to look at John and Claire. "Wish I coulda messed her up like you did."

John shook his head, adjusting his pant leg. "She's not worth it. And that guy had it coming for a long time." He looked between the girls. "No one should touch a girl like that."

Claire raised an eyebrow, remembering how he'd stuck his head between her legs in detention. "Oh really?"

John's cheeks heated, causing Kaylie to burst out laughing. "Did you just get the ever-stoic John Bender to blush?"

John wrinkled his nose at them, trying to keep from smiling. "Shut up you two."

Claire looked up at him, mischief shining in her eyes. "Make me." She smiled, using one of the many tricks he used on her so often.

Kaylie raised her hands, starting for the door. "I'm out!"

They laughed before pressing their lips together in a real kiss. "I love you." John whispered as they separated, happy that she still loved him after all that had happened. "And I only stuck my head there to get on your nerves. I wasn't going to touch you."

She rolled her eyes, walking toward the door to the parking lot. "Sure, you weren't." She smiled sarcastically, pushing her hair behind her ear, noticing that John's was just starting to grow back from the buzz that they'd had to opt for after the withdrawals had started to pass. "I love you, you idiot."

"I'm your idiot though."

She leaned her head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent of sawdust and oil. "Yeah. You're my idiot." She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment, just enjoying being with the boy who two weeks ago was on death's door. "I'm glad you're still here."

He squeezed her hand, letting her know he wasn't going anywhere. "Me too."


	66. Chapter 68

**Chapter Sixty-Eight**

Clarissa placed a huge platter of barbequed meat in front of her guests, smiling as the eleven hungry teens dove into it like a school of sharks. "You'd think these kids never eat." She laughed, looking over at the three other sets of parents.

John bit into a pork rib, that was smothered in barbeque sauce. He was glad that his appetite had returned in time for this, he loved barbeque. "Yo, Will, pass the potato salad." He took the bowl of salad from his friends, spooning a huge amount onto his paper plate.

Claire laughed, pointing to the barbeque sauce on Brian's nose. "You look like a clown!"

He wiped his napkin over his face, catching Kaylie shaking her head. "What?" He asked, noticing that burner smirk.

"You're worse than John." She jabbed a thumb at the leader of the group. "and he's the one with an excuse."

John looked up from his food, looking like a two-year-old. "You're an ass!" He accused, before going back to his pig-like eating habits.

Kaylie glanced between Claire and Allison. "How are you going to take him to California and eat out?"

Claire shook her head, sighing at her moron of a boyfriend. "I'm not even sure if we are." She looked between the other two. "It depends on the seizures, and if he does okay at the park tomorrow."

Allison nodded, taking a bite of one of the many brownies her mom had brought. "And if Jessica and Peter don't try anything."

"I can hear you." John mumbled around a mouthful of food. "Let's not talk about any of that today." He grinned at his friends, noticing their grim faces. "Let's focus on the SSAT competition."

They all burst out laughing, looking forward to seeing if it would be Brian or John who won the contest they'd made up to see who'd gotten the highest score. Dominic and most of the burners had decided to stay out of it, knowing that it was no use to go up against John's photographic memory and Brian's self-discipline. Where as the girls, had decided to stay in.

"My moneys on the brain." Jim smiled, ignoring the fake glare from John. "El Jefe here may have a good memory, but he sleeps through everything."

"Fuck you man!" John laughed, earning a scolding shout from the Johnson's. "Sorry!" He apologized remembering that Amelia was only two feet behind him. He turned to look at her, smiling as she played nonsense on his guitar. "Here, I'll show you how to do that." He took the instrument from her, showing her a few chords.

"Play something!" She grinned up at him, overjoyed that he was all better in her eyes.

John smiled, adjusting his hat again. "What should I play?" He asked, retuning the strings that Amelia had messed up. "Jack and Diane?"

She shook her head, looking over at Claire. "I want Sweets to sing too." She smiled, using John's nickname for the princess.

Claire laughed, standing to go stand beside her boyfriend. "What should we sing, your Highness?" She smiled.

Amelia thought for a moment, struggling to find a song she wanted to hear.

Andy chuckled, calling out a song. "It's only love!" He smiled, as a she nodded.

"Do that one!" Amelia jumped up and down, a huge grin spreading over her face as John strummed the opening.

He looked up at his girl, starting the lyrics. "When the feelin' is ended There ain't no use pretendin' Don't ya worry it's only love," He started, letting his voice adjust after not being used for so long, "When your world has been shattered Ain't nothin' else matters It ain't over it's only love And that's all ya."

Claire jumped in, her voice just as powerful. "When your heart has been broken  
Hard words have been spoken It ain't easy but it's only love And if your life ain't worth livin' And you're ready to give in Just remember that it's only love."

John started again, his voice mixing with hers, his grit blending seamlessly with her silk. "Only love  
You can live without the aggravation Ya gotta wanna win ya gotta wanna win You keep lookin' back in desperation Over and over and over again Yeah yeah It's only love baby Yeah, hey Ooh baby baby, it's only love, love, love Love love love When your world is shattered Ain't nothin' else matters It ain't over it's only love If your life ain't worth livin' And you're ready to give in Just remember that it's only love Yeah, that's all Yeah it ain't easy baby But it's only love and that's all." They smiled, letting the applause of their friends and family fill their ears.

John pressed a kiss to her lips, eliciting a sound of disgust from the child in front of them. He laughed, ruining the kiss. "What's that about?" He asked, looking down at the little girl.

"Kissing's gross." She stuck her tongue out, shaking her head. "I'm never gonna kiss a boy."

"Oh, you're not huh?" He chuckled, raising a brow at her. "Well, that's your choice." He shot a look at the burners, knowing what was going though their heads. "Don't you dare."

Dominic held his palms up, his brow furrowed in confusion. "You can drop the f-bomb around her but we can't say that-"

"Shut it!" John cut his cousin off, knowing the next few words would involve something about homosexuality. "I'm not saying it's wrong, just don't say it yet."

John stood from his seat, grabbing onto Claire's shoulder as he became light-headed.

She steadied him with a hand on his back and stomach, watching as his eyes came back into focus. "You okay?" She asked, relieved when he nodded.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good." He picked up the SSAT envelopes passing them out around the table. "Alright, open them at the same time, and whoever has the highest score wins." He looked at the group. "On three. One, two, three!" They tore into the envelopes pulling out the test scores.

The burners dropped their papers on the table, announcing that they were out.

Claire dropped hers too, followed by Allison and Kaylie. "We're out too."

"So am I." Andy looked at the last two standing. "Now the real action happens."

Brian read his score. "Ninety-eight point eight" He smiled, happy about his achievement. "What'd you get?" He asked, looking up at the shocked face of John Bender. "I got a hundred." He looked up at everyone, taking in their smiles. "I've never gotten this good of a grade on a big test before."

Clarissa pulled him into a hug. "I knew you could do it." She felt the others crowd around them, surrounding them in a group hug. "We're so proud of you."

"Yeah!" The others cheered, backing away from John, letting him see the huge smiles that where plastered on their faces.


	67. Chapter 69

**Chapter Sixty-Nine**

Claire smiled, looking at her boyfriend as he helped to set up the stage for his fundraiser.

He'd abandoned his shirt in the hot May sun, letting his body soak up its rays. He swung his hammer, driving another nail into the wood that made up the frame of the stage.

Kaylie had climbed on top of the frame, and was attaching the black and red curtains to the canopy. She smiled down at Brian, watching as he perfected the placing of the lights and speakers. She shook her head, snapping herself out of her emotions. She couldn't let herself have a crush yet. Not so close to Sid's death. She lifted the curtain over the edge of the canopy. "Look out below!" She shouted, letting it fall through the air.

Dominic looked up from his wiring work, glaring at Brian as he got that look of wanting to adjust the placement again. "If you change this one more time, I am going to become a real felon."

Brian looked over at the color slides that Claire had bought for the lights. Picking one of the blue ones up. "Maybe we should use the blue ones instead of the green."

"FUCK!" John's voice shouted, catching everyone's attention as he jumped around with his thumb in his mouth. He looked up as the laughter roared from his friends. "Fuck off." He growled around his injured finger.

Jim shook his head, going back to his project of setting up the instruments. "I keep tellin' ya to take those damn glasses off." He drawled, setting his drum set on the little raised platform on the back of the stage.

John took his thumb out of his mouth, grabbing the pill bottle from his bag as his alarm went off. "The light triggers them." He stated, taking a pill with a drink of water from his water bottle.

Jim placed John's guitar near the front of the stage, next to one of the decoy mics. "We'll watch out for you man."

Claire shook her head, finishing up the last of the bottom curtains. "You better!"

John stepped back as Kaylie dropped the last of the curtains, watching as the black fabric cascaded down the sides of the stage. "Nice!" He picked up his guitar, plugging it into the huge amps. He placed his earplugs in, knowing that the noise would still be audible, but not loud enough to trigger a seizure. "Sound check." He spoke into the live mic, his voice echoing all the way to the school, which was visible from the stage.

Claire covered her ears, turning the volume on the amps down. "Try again."

John strummed a few chords letting his voice take over the stage. He heard Jim start a beat, Dominic picked up on the bass, and he could hear Allison playing on her keyboard. "Your lights are on, but you're not home Your mind is not your own Your heart sweats, your body shakes Another kiss is what it takes." He remembered the first time he'd kissed Claire, the high he'd felt was greater than any drug he'd ever taken. "You can't sleep, you can't eat There's no doubt, you're in deep Your throat is tight, you can't breathe Another kiss is all you need." He cut the song short, looking at Andy who was way at the other side of the field. "That good Sporto?" He spoke into the mic, smiling at the thumbs up he got from the benched jock. He turned to his blended groups, taking in the rough and tumble burners and the clean-cut Breakfast Club. "Let's put on a show." He smiled, watching as the sun started to near the horizon. "We've got one hour until people start showing up, so keep busy."

"Come on Bender." Rick, the guard of the night, unlocked Jacob's cell looking up at the other man in the cell. "You too Silverman."

Jacob stepped out of the cell, walking down the halls to the rec hall. "What's on tonight, jackass?" He asked, stopping when he heard the voice coming from the speakers. "That little fucker." He glared at the screen, seeing his son, the boy who'd put him in prison, singing into a microphone on a stage. "That dumb shit." He cursed, knowing that he was at the park that was a hundred yards from the back of Shermer high. He turned to his cell mate, an unspoken message passing between them. Tonight, was the night that they would finally get their revenge.


	68. Chapter 70

**Chapter Seventy**

John took a drink of the water that was on the stage, wetting his whistle for the next song. "You having fun?" He smiled into the mic, only able to see the lighters in the crowd and the outlines of his bandmates. He took a little piece of paper from Brian, who was standing at the edge of the stage. "Well, tonight we've raised over-" His sentence was cut short as a round of gunshots rang out, the screams of the crowd drowning out any other sounds around them.

John's wrist was twisted behind his back, and a voice sent chills down his entire body. "You son of a bitch." His father hissed, feeling his son tense at his touch. "Thought you'd get away from me that easy?" He grabbed John's chin, forcing him to look at his friends who were all being held at gun point. "Well, let me tell you what, you can never escape me." He pulled John's arm higher behind his back, smiling at the cry of pain he got from him. "I am you." He growled, feeling his son's fear in his muscles. "You are me." He pushed the boy to the ground, grinding his boot into his ankle as he struggled to get away. "My blood courses through your veins. You came from my dick, and your mothers fucking vagina."

John grimaced as his popped under his dad's weight. He fought the seizure that he knew was coming, refusing to let his father know what was happening to him. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, turning to see Joe pulling Claire on to the stage by the back of her blouse. "Nice lookin' girl you got here." He turned his evil gaze on John, ripping her blouse open. "Bet she's a virgin too." He pulled Claire's hands behind her back, tying them there with one of the microphone cords. "Nice and tight." He took a shiv from his pocket, slipping it under her bra and cutting the delicate fabric off, revealing her perfect breasts for the world to see.

John saw red, his body acting without so much as a thought. He twisted out from under his father's boot, launching for the sicko who was feeling up his girl. "Fuck you!" He screamed, pulling him from her, putting himself between the man and Claire. "You fucking prick!" He shouted, slipping out of his flannel and wrapping it around Claire, before the fight got too bad. "I beat you once! I can beat you again!"

Claire took the opportunity that his screaming had given her, knowing what she had to do. She bolted from the stage, thanking God that John's shirt was a dark color. She ran so fast that her shoes flew off of her feet, letting her feel the earth beneath her. She stumbled over a hole in the field, twisting her ankle. "Ah!" She cried, thankful that she was far enough that no one could hear her. She scrambled to her feet, limping the rest of the way to the school. "Daddy!" She screamed, panic filling her voice.

Thomas rushed to her, followed by the other parents. "Claire, Claire, calm down. What's wrong? Is it John?"

Claire's voice failed her, so instead she shook the green sleeves of John's half buttoned flannel in their faces. "Dad." She choked out, pointing wildly toward the park. "John's."

Thomas got her message, pushing her into her mother's grasp and taking off for the concert. He could hear the frightened screams of the people who'd been enjoying the sound of John's music, but most of all he heard John's voice crying out not in pain but anger. He could just make out John's form on the stage, as he fought like a wild dog against the two men who'd caused him so much pain. He knew better than to call out to him, instead opting to attack the two men who had the rest of John's friends held at gunpoint. He knocked one out with a sharp blow to the skull with a rock, taking his gun and without thinking pulled the trigger twice. He looked at John's cousin and the rest of them, pointing to the school. "Get your asses out of here."

Kaylie shook her head, leaping into the action on the stage. She put herself into the fight, throwing wild punches and taking hard blows to herself. "John! Three o'clock!"

John's body have a violent twitch, but he pulled it back, keeping in the fight. "Got it."

Thomas was vaguely aware of the camera crew moving around behind him, knowing this would be on the news. He pulled his blazer off, climbing onto the stage, followed by the rest of John's friends.

They made quick work of the attackers, getting them on the floor of the stage just as the cops pulled up.

The chief got out of his squad car, his gun trained on Jacob Bender. "To dumb for your own good Bender." He cuffed the man, throwing him into the car. His partner taking care of Joe Silverman. He turned to Thomas and John's ragtag group of friends. "Is everyone alright?" He asked, taking in the group of teens, noticing that John was obviously fighting against something. "Are you okay son?"

John dropped, his body convulsing against his will.

His friends instantly made a wall around him, shielding his body from the prying eyes of the cops and the camera crew. "Back of." Kaylie barked at the camera, pushing her hand over the lends. "Cut the tape!" She shouted, listening as John's seizure worsened. "Dom, take over here." She ordered, disappearing into the wall of people, taking John's head in her hands just like Claire would.

She felt Mr. Standish kneel beside her, showing her exactly how to hold John's head so he wouldn't hurt himself. "Like this, squeeze his jaw shut so he doesn't bite his tongue," he adjusted her fingers, "And keep your head back so he can't hurt you." He watched as John's seizure slowly started to fade, relief flooding over him. "There we go." He brushed one of John's tears from his cheeks, smiling as he started to come back to the present. "It's okay, son." He lifted John into his arms, letting him cry into his shoulder. "It's okay. They're gone now."

The police chief gave Thomas a nod, opening his door. "We'll handle the rest of this tomorrow."

John's friends, started to separate, Dominic and Jim marching the camera crew off the scene.

John clutched onto Thomas's arms, his body flooded with pain and the shame of what had happened. What he'd let happen, because of his own fear. "Claire?" His question was clear, as his dark eyes looked up at Thomas.

He helped the boy to his feet, walking toward the hoard of parents flooding into the parking lot that the school shared with the park. "She's right here."

He stood back as the kids launched into each other's arms, each one sobbing just as hard as the other as they clung to each other like their lives depended on it.

Brian held his parents close, noticing that the rest of them were doing the same thing; that is the rest of them who weren't burners.  
Dominic and the rest of the burners leaned on each other for support, like they had their whole lives when they needed it. That was the burner code. They looked out for each other, because if they didn't, no one would.

Vernon took the scene in, noticing the small group of teens. He took them into a hug, holding the six of them close as if they were his own children. He closed his eyes, unable to imagine his own children going through what these kids had. "It'll be okay." He whispered, listening to the quiet tears of the newly sobered up burner children. "Everything will be okay." For the first time in his life, he understood these children, having seen only a glimpse of what most of them went through. "You're okay." He made a promise with himself that day, a promise that he would get these teens good homes until they could graduate; if he had to he would take them all into his own home, but he would find a way for justice to be served.


	69. Chapter 71

**Chapter Seventy-One**

John sat on the sofa, curled up in one of Claire's blankets, a cup of hot chocolate on the table beside him. He ignored the ten other teens in the room with him, focusing on the reporters on the screen.

"-But thanks to these young teens, the crisis was everted." The TV show flashed to a clip of the footage that was captured by the camera crew. "The event, despite the attack, raised over ten-thousand dollars for the New Tracks Foundation. A foundation created by a group known as The Breakfast Club to bring awareness to the problem of abuse in a subdivision in Chicago Illinois, known as Shermer."

The growing Breakfast Club all smiled, happy that they'd been featured on national television. They all looked to John, hoping to get some reaction from him. Ever since his last seizure he hadn't been the same. They knew he was mentally and physically exhausted, but he was hardly responding to anything now.

"But it seems that abuse isn't the only problem these kids are tackling." The screen showed John dropping to the ground, his body seizing and convulsing from the over stimulation. "Johnathan Bender, age seventeen, is in recovery for methamphetamine addiction, this seizure the result of his use of the drug."

Eleven pairs of eyes turned to John, noticing the frustration on his face.

Claire pressed a hand to his arm, shrinking away as he flinched at her touch. "John-"

"Don't." He turned his eyes to the far wall, avoiding the concerned faces surrounding him. "Just… don't."

Brian changed the channel, turning it to an episode of Gilligan's Island that was running. He leaned back into his previous position on the floor, his hand landing on Kaylie's. He looked up at her, blue eyes meeting green. "Oh, uh, I- I'm sorry." He blushed, dropping his gaze.

Kaylie gave a broken smile, remembering Sid as she looked at the boy before her. "It's okay."

Andy held Allison's hand, kissing her knuckles, attempting to escape the gloominess of the room. He knew that John was humiliated, being known as an addict in school was hard enough for him, but now he was known nationwide as the kid who'd had a seizure on TV.

Allison scribbled in her notebook, finishing a picture she'd been working on since the Breakfast Club five had become eleven, a sketch of them all together with John I the center.

Dominic kept an eye on his little cousin, knowing that no matter how bad he'd had it at his home, John had always had it worse. John hadn't had a strong Mexican mother to protect him, instead, he'd had a drug addicted white woman with a submissive attitude. They'd always tried to protect each other, but they'd never been able to do what they tried to. At least he'd had Sid through the hardest times, but now they were both lost. Not knowing what to do now that their friend was gone. He itched for a joint, wishing he could use. But he'd promised his cousin that as long as he was sober they all would be. He turned to John, having an idea of what he needed. "You're gonna be okay, El Jefe." He looked around the room, meeting the eyes of everyone there. "We all will be."

Clarissa leaned against her husband's arm, a sad smile spreading over her face. "It's like A Hundred and One Dalmatians in there." She shook her head, watching as Jim turned the channel to an old black and white Rin Tin-Tin. "What're we going to do from here?" She asked, turning to look at him. "We don't have enough rooms for all of them."

Vernon sipped on a mug of coffee, biting his lip in thought. "I have some money saved up." He smiled at the Standish's. "If you can match it, we could give these kids a good home for them, and our own families." He patted his wife's hand, glad that their sons were with their grandparents for the week. "I've already talked to the Reynolds, Johnsons, and the Clarks, and they thought that California would be a good place to go."

The Standish's looked back at the other parents, shocked at the offer. "Wouldn't we have to build a new house?" They asked, looking over the giant group of teens.

Mr. Johnson smiled, placing his hand on his wife's letting their sleeping daughter rest on his shoulder. "I think I've found one that will fit us all." He turned to the other families, knowing that this would shock them all. "It's the largest mansion in Los Angeles, and I think that if we each put down a few grand, we can afford to give these kids the life they deserve."

The Standish's beamed, amazed at the prospect. "Well, what're we waiting for?"

The adults all laughed, happy that they were finally getting something right in their parenting skills. Mr. Clark raised his voice announcing to the kids in the other room. "Kids, we're moving to California!"

"What?" Shouted Eleven voices at once, the TV flipping off, as they all gathered in the doorway.

"We're going to buy a house in LA, and we're all going to live there." Mrs. Clark smiled, taking Clarissa's hand in hers. "We're going to be one gigantic tribe." She chuckled, noticing the missing spark of hope return to their faces. "One big family."

A cheer went up from the teens, waking up Amelia and causing her to look around in a haze until she saw John. "You're bald!" She giggled, pointing to John's shaved head.

He scooped her up, blowing a raspberry on her stomach. "This is what happens if you take care of bratty little girls." He laughed, happy that he was feeling himself again. "We're moving to California."

She looked around the room taking in all the people around her. "All of us?" She asked in awe.

Claire nodded, her grin spreading ear to ear. "All of us."

"Disney Land!" She squealed as John spun her around in a circle.

A roar of laughter went up from the crowd, as the real happiness set in on the teens who'd lived to hard of lives. "Disney Land!" They cheered, gathering the parents in a huge group hug. They finally had a family, and for once they didn't have to worry about anything but each other.

John smiled, knowing for the first time in his life, that it would all be okay.

 **Well, that's the end of this work. But don't worry guys! I have a sequel planned for the future! I just have to go back to studying for a little bit and then I'll get right on with the next one! Thank you all for the kind reviews, and special thanks to HMG2000 for helping me with the ideas, the poems, and over all being a huge inspiration to me, I hope you'll help me with the next one HMG2000!**


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